A Vision of Ecstasy
by countmeawake
Summary: He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he reaches for it, thankful that he'd remembered to turn the sound off because the library was quite busy and Stiles hates drawing attention to himself. "Come home" It reads. Expecting it to be from Scott, he smiles. But it was from Lydia. (Or the one where a crazy Alpha comes to town and Stiles was only meant to be there for a vacation)


When he thinks about it, the only logical answer he can come up with is that he's a coward. _Why did you stay in New York after College? Why didn't you go back to Beacon Hills to be with the rest of them_? Because he's a coward. He's got his answer. The fact that he was over the other side of the country wasn't exactly the most helpful situation, but he went back for the first two Christmases and summers. But then one summer he just stayed there. He had a life here now, and it wasn't as if anyone needed him back home anyway. His dad had married Melissa McCall, Scott had Allison, and the Pack had each other...so he just stayed away. Of course he missed everyone, that was a given. But the more time passed, the more difficult it was to go home. So he spent birthdays with his New York friends, and Christmases alone. (He would go to a friend's house for Thanksgiving, but that usually ended up in them both being passed out on the floor blind drunk.) He'd hilariously taught his dad how to use Skype so they could say hi to each other on Christmas Day, and he'd get presents through the mail, but it was just easier on him to stay where he was.

* * *

It's the first week of summer vacation, and Stiles is in his favourite library on the second floor, brushing up on his History because it's his favourite thing to do on a Thursday afternoon. His role in the Pack was practically "researcher" anyway, so it was a given that he'd become a teacher, and a damn good History one at that. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he reaches for it, thankful that he'd remembered to turn the sound off because the library was quite busy and Stiles hates drawing attention to himself when there's no need.

_Come home_. It reads. And Stiles furrows his eyebrows together. Because if this was from Scott, Stiles would just laugh, brush it off and text back a simple "Don't be a silly puppy", hit send and forget about it. But it wasn't.

It was from Lydia.

Then suddenly there's something in his mind that opens, like a box or a safe of emotions that somehow he's managed to hold back. But this text opens his mind and suddenly there's this overwhelming feeling flowing through Stiles' veins because yes, he wants to go home. He wants to see his dad and Scott and Lydia and everyone else. But he's _scared_. Because he's practically ran from them since he was eighteen. He hasn't been back in over two years because he has a life here now. He enjoys the city and his job and his life. He enjoys going to bars and hooking up with anyone who'll look at him, because that's his life now.

So why is he going home and booking plane tickets back to Beacon Hills?

Why is he booking them for tomorrow?

Why is he packing?

Because he misses them, that's why. And Lydia's text stirred something fierce in him, and he wants to see Lydia again. He wants to see Scott and Allison, and Hell; he even wouldn't mind seeing Jackson.

It's his dad he misses the most though. A part of him didn't let him return back to Beacon Hills because he didn't need to. Three years ago his dad married Melissa McCall, and for once since his mother's death, his dad actually looked happy. And Stiles didn't want to ruin that, how could he? He feels utterly weak at the prospect of seeing his dad again, and his heart wrenches with excitement. He's going home.

* * *

The plane flight exhausts him. Partially because he hates to fly anyway, who even likes the plane food? No one, no one likes the plane food. So he's absolutely starving by the time he gets to Lydia and Jackson's apartment, and he can smell ravioli and it's making his stomach churn. He knocks three times and Lydia opens the door almost immediately, pulling him inside and just standing there to look at him, up and down as if he were some possession she wants to acquire.

"You look so old," she says, brushing her strawberry blonde hair with her fingers, a slight curve on her lips to show she's only partially joking.

"Thanks," Stiles replies sarcastically and Lydia rolls her eyes. Of course, this is when she runs to him and pulls him in for a squeeze. Stiles retaliates, his long arms reaching up and hugging her back just as tightly, his head nestled in her hair as he breathes in deep and he can smell strawberries and cream, and he praises God for such a shampoo because it's _glorious_.

"It's good to have you back, Stiles," Lydia whispers into his ear and he grins. _It's good to be back_, he thinks.

He's still hugging Lydia when his eyes dart up to notice Jackson in the corner. His relationship with Jackson hasn't always been the greatest (cue memories of restraining orders and various punches thrown at one another), but Stiles can't help but feel _relieved _that he's seeing that stupid douchey face once more.

So Stiles smiles.

And Lydia lets go, and Jackson takes a few steps forward, and grins and pulls him in for a hug.

"Nice to see you again, idiot," Jackson barks and Stiles is hitting him on the back with his fist in a feeble attempt to punish him. He looks over at Lydia who is just stood there dumbfounded at the idea that Jackson has emotions for someone other than herself, and if Stiles could actually breathe right now, he'd say "I know what you mean," but considering his air pipe is being crushed by a werewolf, he stays still until Jackson's all hugged out.

"You staying for dinner?" Lydia asks, reaching out and taking one of Stiles' hands in both of hers and she just rubs circles into his skin for a few seconds before releasing it. This action moves Stiles, and it moves him to a point where he wants to just sit down and sob. Because they haven't seen each other in two years, and she's changed. She's changed a damn lot since Jackson became a werewolf eight years ago when they were all sixteen.

Of course, she's still a huge badass with a brain the size of Einstein and then some, but there's intimacy and passion and love, and this shocks Stiles to his very core. Because Jackson and Lydia have rubbed off on each other and they're better now, better than when they were apart.

Which is when Stiles' breath hitches, because he's missed so much and he doesn't want to miss any more.

"Of course he is, I could hear his stomach rumbling when he was outside." And Stiles rolls his eyes because affectionate Jackson is over and back comes douchey Jackson, but in all honesty? Stiles wouldn't change him for the world.

Okay, that's a lie, maybe a little bit. But he's actually okay with the way Jackson is now. Kind of. Maybe a few tweaks here and there and then Jackson would be considered a normal friend.

They're eating at the dining table and Jackson and Lydia are talking about random nonsense, how Jackson is studying to become a lawyer, and how Lydia recently solved some Math equation that she got published in some Math journal that Stiles has no idea about because it's Math. But he nods along and shoves the ravioli into his mouth because wow, he is starving, and he just wants to hear Lydia talk, her feisty yet graceful voice so familiar that he feels homely once more.

"Have you seen the rest of them yet?" Lydia asks and suddenly Stiles realises that she's not talking about her life anymore, but talking to him and asking him questions, so he puts down his fork and looks up to Lydia.

"No," he replies, shrugging his shoulders, "I figured I'd do that tomorrow," he breathes, and raises his eyebrows when Lydia rolls her eyes.

"Okay," she says, looking at Jackson and then back to Stiles, "just...maybe go and visit Scott and Allison first."

"O...kay?" Stiles replies, looking at Jackson, whose face is solemn and unfathomable, which is weird because usually when he's looking at Stiles there's either a scowl, or a look of pity on his face.

Then nothing more is said about it. So Stiles talks. He talks about his job as a school History teacher. He talks about his shitty apartment and his three hundred year old landlady that he swears once asked for sexual favours in return for not paying a month's rent. He talks about his favourite coffee shop and how one time he ran into some werewolves, quite literally in the park across from where he lives. He talks about how he taught his dad how to use Skype, and how he thinks Melissa is a godsend for setting his dad on the straight and narrow.

He doesn't talk about spending Christmases alone, or how he misses his friends daily, or how he's terrified, even now of what's going to happen when he sees everyone again. He doesn't talk about the fact he has an on/off/was it really ever on boyfriend back home in New York, he doesn't talk about the time he spent two weeks in hospital because he was in a car accident that resulted in a smashed pelvis and a lovely scar just above his knee from where it was practically torn open. Because he doesn't want them worrying that he can't take care of himself. Because he's fine, he really is.

And Lydia listens, because it's Lydia and she's thoughtful and lovely and beautiful and, to be honest, Stiles is still a little bit in love with her, he'll _always _hold a candle to her, listen to what she has to say and help her when she's down. But things are different now, they've both grown up and moved on and she's living with Jackson nowadays and he's living with nobody and that's okay. It'll always be okay.

It's silent for a while as Lydia serves up the cherry pie, and Stiles can't help but break the silence with the question that's been on his lips pretty much since he got the text.

"Why did you tell me to come home?" He asks, inquisitive and Lydia shifts slightly, turning round to face him and leaning up against the counter.

"We missed you. Regardless of your reasons for staying away so long, the Pack isn't exactly in the greatest position right now, and Stiles, we need you."

Stiles doesn't say anything at all.

* * *

It's approaching ten o'clock at night, and Stiles is silently relieved that he gets to go to his dad's and just sleep. Because tomorrow is going to be a big day. He's not exactly told anyone he's coming home, so there's a part of him that can't wait to see the look on their faces when they see him, and he wishes that he'd brought his camera just so he can frame them for when he goes back to New York when his time here is over. He hugs Lydia goodbye and thanks her for the ravioli. He salutes to Jackson who just scowls at him, and Stiles scowls back because two can play at his game buddy. And then he's catching a cab back to his dad's house.

His Jeep is no more. They had to sell it for scrap parts three years ago because it just broke down one day, and never worked again. It's not like Stiles needed it anyway, there is literally no point in having a car in New York because everything is a subway ride away. So when he arrives at his dad's house, it's just Melissa's car there that she and his dad now share. He pays the cab driver and walks up the pathway, hesitates slightly but curses to himself and then knocks.

"It's half past ten Melissa who the Hell is knocking on the door at this time?" He hears through the door and Stiles laughs, because that's so typical.

The door opens, and his dad is there looking all angry faced and sour, but then he sees it's Stiles at the door, and he softens. The lines on his brow decrease and his eyebrows rise in conjuncture with his smile, and suddenly Stiles is being hugged so hard he's wondering if he's going to crush a few ribs, so he coughs and his dad lets up slightly. "Son, you're back," he says, holding Stiles at arm's length so he can look his son up and down, his eyes coming to rest on Stiles' face and his grin widens. And then Melissa is there and she's hugging Stiles too and kissing him on the left cheek, leaving an imprint of lipstick there that Stiles doesn't want to rub away, not just yet.

"For a week or two yeah," he clarifies. His dad's face drops for a millisecond but then he composes himself he plants a smile back on his face, moving out of the way to let Stiles inside. Stiles pretends he didn't see the momentary drop, and he ignores it, walking inside the house and dropping his bag at the foot of the stairs. Not much has changed; he notices as he looks around there are a few extra pictures in the hallway of his dad and Melissa at their wedding, and one of Stiles in a suit. He's laughing in the picture because Scott took it, and Scott was making stupid faces because he couldn't understand the camera and Allison was trying to rip it out of his hands so she could take the photo instead.

It had taken his dad years to finally move on. To learn how to be happy with someone new. And Stiles was ecstatic to learn that he and Melissa were dating, because she'd been that mother figure to Stiles after his mom died. Of course, no one could replace her, and Stiles knows that there's going to be a part of his dad that's always going to love her, and he doesn't expect anything less. But Stiles is glad that he can move that to one side, and learn to be happy again. Which in turn makes him happy.

Melissa kisses his dad on the cheek and Stiles smiles slightly because they now have matching lipstick marks, and Stiles can't help but think that Melissa did that on purpose. "Have you seen anyone yet?" She asks, and Stiles nods.

"Yeah," he replies, picking up the bag he previously put down because he's really tired so he might just go upstairs and sleep, "Jackson and Lydia, I'm seeing Scott and Allison tomorrow, as well as the rest of the Pack probably."

They had told his dad about werewolves just before he left for College. It was kind of funny actually, because his dad was convinced that Stiles was making this all up as some kind of idiot prank, so there was nothing else Stiles could do apart from call Scott, get him to come over and just...wolf out. Which is when his dad pulled out his gun and threatened to shoot Scott, but we don't talk about that situation because Scott may or may not have ran away like a girl.

"Okay," his dad says, holding out his hand and laying it to rest atop of Stiles' shoulder, "just remember that Derek still lives in that rot-infested house he calls a home even though Scott told him to move out two years ago."

"He's done up the place now," Melissa intervenes, shaking her head at his dad and Stiles smiles, "it's not so rot-infested anymore." She looks at Stiles. "You can thank Erica for that one."

Stiles just nods, makes the excuse that he's exhausted, and walks upstairs to his bedroom which looks exactly the same as the last time he left it, but his bedroom has new sheets and his bathroom looks a bit cleaner (God bless you Melissa). Derek hadn't really crossed his mind to be honest. He'd obviously expected to see him when he visited the rest of the Pack but...Derek had been the only one that hadn't exactly wanted to get in touch with Stiles after he left.

He isn't quite sure whether Derek just isn't bothered with Stiles anymore, or whether he's angry or just being his usual Derek self, but he supposes he can spare an hour to visit the wolf tomorrow. But right now he needs sleep. And a lot of it. Because the flight killed his energy, and so did listening to Lydia talk. But he wouldn't dare say that aloud.

* * *

He wakes up to the smell of pancakes and a newfound love for his dad. He shoves a pair of jeans on and a beige Henley, running down the stairs two at a time because inside he's secretly still a kid and _fuck he loves pancakes_. Melissa has gone to work so it's just his dad in the kitchen, taking the blueberries out of the fridge and placing them on the table.

"Where's the plaid?" He asks, turning around to face Stiles, who looks at himself up and down and shrugs.

"What do you mean, 'where's the plaid'?"

"Exactly what just came out of my mouth, where's the plaid?"

"Dad," Stiles begins, sitting down at the table and rolling his eyes, "I'm twenty-four. I've brought new clothes since I was sixteen you know, suck it up."

"Son's got sassy."

"I've always been sassy."

"That is most certainly true."

They eat the pancakes and Stiles talks, and it feels just like old times because this is actually how most of their breakfasts used to go. He lets his dad talk more than he does, and regardless of whether he's talking about his retirement, or whether he's giving Stiles a lecture on not coming back sooner, it's nice to hear his voice once again. It feels like home, and Stiles just sits there and tries not to well up because his dad is just as animated as he remembers, and it's like no time as passed at all.

But it has, two years have passed since he last saw his dad in the flesh, and the lines on his forehead are deeper and there are newer lines at the corner of his eyes. His dad has put on a little bit of weight so his cheeks look a bit chubbier and his voice is a tad hoarser than Stiles remembers. But of course he's aged too. He's grown his hair out slightly and he's filled out, actually going to the gym so there's a bit more muscle on his lanky body. He's an adult now, he's grown up from the kid he used to be, this talkative teenager who was hardly ever off his laptop, the one that went to College and got a degree and a job and an on/off/was it really ever on boyfriend and an apartment. He owns a suit and everything. And it still scares him just how grown up he is.

"You off to see Scott soon?" His dad asks, and then Stiles just laughs because if there's _anyone_ on this Earth that can make Stiles feel like a kid again, it's Scott.

"Yeah," he replies, eating the last of his pancakes. "I'll do the dishes first though."

"Good lad. Nice to have you home, kid." His dad pats him on the back and goes to the living room, leaving Stiles alone to do the dishes and alone with his thoughts.

Considering Stiles is now forever _sans_-Jeep, he walks to the McCall residence, where Scott and Allison are now living. He misses Scott. He misses Scott a lot because they'd had their lives planned out since they were six. Getting the same grades, and going to the same College, living in some bachelor pad forever. But life doesn't work out like that, and heck if Stiles knows. Scott's grades were average, and he got a job straight out of High School in advertising, so there was no need to go to College. Allison on the other hand, got her journalism degree and came back to be a feature writer in the Beacon Hills Gazette, so they're doing okay for themselves.

He doesn't even knock. He just walks straight in, and Scott is just about to walk up the stairs and he jumps, which makes Stiles keel over with laughter because the look on Scott's face is priceless. And then Scott is smiling and pulling Stiles in for a hug and Stiles thinks that perhaps this hugging shit is getting a bit old now because he's definitely going to have some crushed ribs before the day is out.

"You're back!" Scott says and he's sort of nuzzling up against Stiles, and Stiles isn't sure as to whether this is a wolf thing or just a _Scott _thing. Either way, he doesn't ask. He just lets him nuzzle.

"I'm back," Stiles elucidates, and he smiles into his best friend's shoulder. And then Allison is there and she's hugging him too, from the back, so Stiles is now caught in some kind of couple sandwich, and he's not entirely sure if he's comfortable or not but he just lets them be because they're his best friends.

Allison takes one hand, and Scott takes his arm and they're leading him into the living room and shoving him down on the sofa so Stiles can talk about the last two years. So Stiles repeats what he told Lydia pretty much word for word because he'd practiced it on the flight over. What to say and what not to say, what white lies to tell and what to just...leave out. Scott sits on the coffee table in front of Stiles, and they're practically knee to knee and his mouth is slightly apart with awe, whilst Allison is behind him and her hands are on Scott's shoulders, and they're being all coupley and cute and Stiles isn't sure whether to vomit or sob, so he just kind of looks down at his hands and twiddles his thumbs as he carries on with his life story.

And then it's Scott's turn, and Scott is telling him how his job in advertising is great, and how his mom gave them the house and Allison cried, and how one time they thought Allison was pregnant and when she wasn't, how relieved they were (Allison shifts a little and Stiles understands so he moves the subject on swiftly by asking how Allison's job is going).

"When was the last time you spoke to Derek?" Stiles asks, and he realises it's the first time he's actually said that name aloud for the past two years.

Scott shuffles his feet and looks away, Allison goes out to the kitchen to make sandwiches. "What?" Stiles asks, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No it's not that," Scott begins and he looks at Stiles who is downright confused, "we just haven't spoken to him in about six months."

Well this shocks Stiles. "Why?! Aren't you meant to be Pack? Isn't that like, a thing? Pack meetings and stuff? Are you going through your mid-life wolf crisis Scott is that it?"

Scott scowls and punches Stiles in the arm. "I was never _really _a part of his Pack though, was I? We just kind of drifted apart, I still talk to Erica and Boyd and Isaac, but...Derek and I, we don't really have time for each other anymore. He doesn't really have time for anyone to be honest; he just lounges around all day does push ups."

Stiles barks out a laugh and composes himself. Because that's typical Derek, not speaking to anyone unless someone speaks to him first. Because he's just _that _arrogant. Which is why he and Derek haven't spoken since the last time they saw each other face to face. Because Stiles hasn't had a reason to call or text Derek in two years.

He still counts himself as Pack, but that's more for the betas. To them he's still their Pack pet, the teenager who will do anything and everything for them in return for no one growling in his face or pushing him up against a wall *cough* Derek. He locks these thoughts away in a corner at the back of his mind, because this is _his _time with Scott and Allison, and a broody werewolf isn't going to distract him.

But it's soon approaching three pm and Stiles really needs to get on, because he wants to actually sit down and eat dinner with his dad and Melissa tonight. As a family. So he says his goodbyes, he promises Scott he'll be back tomorrow on Sunday to eat lunch with them and to play some good old fashioned XBOX games with Scott, and he leaves, to walk to the apartment complex where Erica, Isaac and Boyd share an apartment.

Stiles likes to walk. Because it's exercise where he can actually think and organize his thoughts. He hasn't played Lacrosse in almost seven years, and he can tell his muscles miss the excitement, the adrenaline rush, but being a History teacher, he just doesn't have time for it. It's a good two miles to Casa Del werewolf, but he takes his time. The air smells crisp and fresh, and he thinks if peaceful could have a scent, then it's definitely this.

Because he misses this. Misses the staggering green of the trees, and the sight of sunlight seeping through the branches so it creates shadows on the ground underneath. Shadows he used to jump over and play "the shadows are lava" with Scott when they walked through Beacon Hills park after school. The sun is bright and hot, he can feel it on his naked skin and he sighs because he's burning already. He's got the Stilinski curse, the "one touch of sunlight and you go pale. Nope, no tan for you" curse that he inherited from his father. And he's an idiot. He knows he's an idiot because he forgot to buy sunscreen but it's too late now, so he carries on walking, because it's the only thing he seems to want to do right now.

He feels like this day is routine. Too routine, as if he's some social worker making visits to all of his patients. But he knows that he deserves this because in all honesty, he is the one that stayed away for two years, not the other way around. _But_, he thinks, _but I'm not going to beat myself up about this. I'm back._

So he spends the rest of the walk humming _Toxic _by Britney Spears.

He gets to apartment 4B and he knocks and waits. He hears some kind of shuffle behind the door, and then Erica shout "STILINSKI!"

And suddenly he wants to run away or hide or something because damn, Erica is angry. But then the door swings open and there are hands on the collar of his jacket and he's being pulled inside, slammed up against the door and just...breathed on.

He almost laughs because this is such a Derek thing to do and Stiles isn't sure whether it's a good thing or not that Derek is actually rubbing off on his Pack for once.

"Two years," Erica snarls and _holy crap she's scary as shit_. Stiles doesn't really know what to say, so he just stays silent because for once, he's at a loss for words.

But then Erica kisses him.

It's not sweet or tender or passionate, it's more of an angry kiss, an "I'm so angry but glad to have you back" kiss, and her lips are crushing his so forcefully that it completely blows the air out of his lungs. And her hands are snaking around his neck so he doesn't pull away and the kiss deepens but he stays deathly still because he's terrified. She smells lightly of cinnamon and the freshness of leaves, and her lips are strangely soft for someone so powerful.

And then he's free, and he's just staring at Erica who gives him the sad eyes and says "I hate you", before pulling him in for a hug and resting her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder and she breathes in and out slowly, her breath waving across Stiles' neck and it makes him shiver so slightly, and she's shouting at Isaac and Boyd to come in for a hug too, who have been watching the showdown the entire time.

Werewolves. He'll never understand them.

He eventually has to poke Erica's back to make her move, because she's just standing there and swaying them back and forth, completely devoid of what Boyd and Isaac are doing, as they disentangled themselves from the heap a minute ago. She doesn't let go of him completely, her hands come to rest on a shoulder each.

"Damn you got attractive," Erica says, and Stiles chokes on his own words because what the Hell was he meant to say to that? Thanks? Sorry for not being as attractive before?

"New York changes people I guess," he responds and he can't help but think _nailed it Stiles_, as Erica smiles and leads him into the living room where Isaac and Boyd are watching television.

And then he's doing that thing again where he's telling them what's happened over the past two years, telling most parts but leaving out others. It's as if he's reading this from a card or an autocue, because the words that are escaping his mouth are so practiced and rehearsed now that he doesn't even really notice, his mouth just forms the words without his brain really caring. And then he's finished, and Boyd claps him on the back, says "well it's good to have you back anyway," Isaac half-hugs him (it's a little awkward considering he's sat next to Stiles, but Stiles snakes a hand round his back and rubs softly), and Erica just sits on the floor with her back against his knees, and they just sit like that for a while. They're all touching Stiles in some way, and he can't help but think that this is most definitely a Pack thing.

Then his heart warms, because they still consider him Pack. Even though he's been living in New York for six years. Before he knows it, his vision is blurring at the edges and there's tears threatening to spill over, and he bites his lip and holds them back because-

"Stiles I can smell salt, why are you crying?" It's Erica speaking, and her voice is soft and questioning, and Stiles scoffs.

"Erica that's gross, you're all gross, wolves are gross."

"Stiles." Erica's voice is more forceful this time, and wow. She's actually scarier than Lydia when she wants to get her way.

He's not really sure what to say, because he's not entirely certain about why his eyes decided to deceive him.

"This is nice," he responds, and Erica smiles, Isaac squeezes his side and Boyd does another clap-on-the-back thing. And this is nice, it's a Hell of a lot nice, because holy crap he's missed this. Bonding time with the Pack, watching crappy TV shows and moaning about High School.

But, time has moved on and so has he.

They're silent again for a while, until Erica shifts, checks the clock on the wall and moves to stand up.

"So," she begins, her right hand coming up to brush a few stray hairs behind her ear, "we're gonna be late to meet Derek, I mean you could stay here or go home or...come?"

He _had _wanted to go and see Derek alone. Because he knew Derek's reaction was going to be a lot different. There'd be no hugging or asking how his two years without seeing him was. He's not entirely sure how the special reunion would have gone down if he'd gone over there alone.

"Yeah sure," he responds, standing up and readjusting his jeans, "I'm pretty sure he misses my face so why not?"

"Ever the sarcastic one," Boyd says, and Stiles frowns.

"I was being serious."

* * *

His day is far too routine. Visiting everyone feels like a chore now. Only one stop left though, and then after today he can finally relax and watch TV with his dad and play video games with Scott. That's what he's looking forward to most of all. Feeling like a teenager again. Because becoming a teacher? That means growing up a helluva lot in a short amount of time. And just like everything else he's come across recently, he misses it. They approach the Hale house and it pretty much looks exactly the same from the front, only the roof has been retiled and the driveway looks a little wider, a little cleaner than what he remembers. Erica, Boyd and Isaac leave the car as if they own the place, walking straight through the door and shouting out Derek's name. Stiles follows after them.

Derek's in the kitchen..._making sandwiches_, and Stiles only knows this because he decides to follow the smell of cooked chicken instead of his friends, who had now seated themselves in the living room.

The entire house has been redone. There's actual wallpaper and actual appliances and actual light fixtures. The place looks habitable, and Stiles has to hand it to Erica and Derek for making this place worth living in.

He knows Derek knows he's there, being a werewolf with werewolf senses and stuff, but he doesn't turn around. And Stiles is just in the doorway, leaning against the frame and he runs a hand through his hair a few times before settling on crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey buddy," he finally says, and he can see the muscles in Derek's back tighten and then loosen again. Derek makes a grunting noise like a caveman, and Stiles rolls his eyes. "Not an 'I've missed you?' 'Welcome back you handsome fellow?' 'Oh how I've missed your voice'? I'm shocked and upset Derek I really am."

Derek growls, a low and almost feral growl that more or less makes Stiles jump, but he's used to it and it's strange to him that after two years of not hearing caveman Derek, he feels like this is familiar to him once again.

He's a little bit annoyed, to be honest. Of course, he hadn't expected it to be like that one Doctor Who episode where Ten and Rose see each other across the road and then run for each other, but he'd at least half expected a "hello" or a quick shove up against a wall. But he gets nothing. And if anything, this is worse than a shove up against the wall. A lot worse.

"Are you really not going to say anything?" Stiles asks, taking a few steps forward because fuck this, "I'm gone two years and you can't even muster up a 'how are you'?"

Derek spins around and the movement is so quick that it makes Stiles jump once again, and he's frozen in place.

"Exactly," Derek says, his voice low and uncultivated, "you've been gone two years. What have I got to say to you?"

"Ouch," Stiles replies with all of the sarcasm he can possibly gather, uncrossing his arms and placing them down by his side because right now he needs to hold his ground. He'll always remember that one Psych class where his teacher had told him not to cross his arms over his chest because it's a sign of self consciousness, a sign of privacy, and right now Stiles does _not _want to be private. Not one bit. Because now he's angry.

"This isn't just a one way thing, _Derek_, you have a phone too, and you can pick it up and send a text message can't you? Because I know you're all Neanderthal and 'let's frolic in the woods' half the time but I'm pretty sure you know enough to tap your fingers on a few buttons and hit send."

Derek says nothing.

Stiles 1, Wolf 0.

"You know," Stiles begins, not taking his eyes off the wolf, "this whole reunion would have gone about ten times better if you'd decided not to act like a needy ex girlfriend."

Derek's across the room in two seconds and Stiles is being thrown up against the wall, and Stiles almost wants to laugh because wow, Derek has not changed one bit. So he just waits. He waits for Derek's hissy fit to come to a standstill.

Damn werewolves and their tempers.

"You okay now buddy?" Stiles asks after a minute, and Derek just does that mock smile, scoffs and then suddenly he's not there anymore, he's six feet away and turning back around to finish the sandwiches. "Okay," Stiles ends, and then he starts to turn around because frankly, he's had enough. If Derek wants to act like a child then he's going to treat Derek like a child.

But Derek speaks, and he stops in his tracks. "Do you even count yourself as part of this Pack anymore?"

Ouch. Stiles wants to shout at Derek and say yes, of course he fucking does, but the words won't escape his mouth because he isn't entirely sure. If there's one person on this Earth that he feels the worst at lying to, it's Derek. Because he knows damn well that Derek can handle the truth unlike his friends or his dad.

So he just shrugs. "I can see where I stand with you," Stiles answers monotonously. He takes one last look at Derek, and leaves. Because Derek has put him in that position again where he can't even stand to look at the Alpha anymore. A position that's happened all too often.

* * *

"You left!"

"Derek annoyed me."

"Derek annoys everyone."

He's at home and on the phone to Erica, who rings him up to have a go because he missed out on chicken sandwiches and Pack bonding time.

"He didn't even want me there, Erica, it was pretty clear when he threw me up against the wall and practically bared his fangs in my face. I can't say I've missed that."

"You're stupid," she says, and Stiles can practically hear the eye roll from over the phone, "of course he wants you there, you're Pack."

Stiles laughs, a cruel laugh that even shocks him. "I don't think I am anymore, he pretty much made that clear." He lies down on his bed and just looks up at the ceiling. It's dark now, around eleven pm and the only light in his room is from the dim red lamp on the desk with the energy saving light bulb because his dad's "gone green" now. He makes up some excuse about wanting to sleep, and he ends the call, places his phone on the desk and just stares at that same spot on the ceiling. He's half tempted to jerk off because there is literally nothing else to do. But he just turns off his lamp and gets into bed, pulling the covers up just over his waist because it's hot and his window is already open wide. He just lays there for a while, in that state between not quite awake and not quite asleep, his mind awash with all things Pack.

"Stiles."

Stiles jumps out of his skin and his heart is racing, he flails his arms and the covers slip from his body as he looks over and Derek's just there on his windowsill looking all dark and broody and _Derek_.

"Derek there's such things as a door,"

"It's eleven o'clock," Derek replies, as if this is the answer that would solve everything.

"I'm not a teenager anymore, you can't just roll in and out of my window when you freakin' please."

Derek's waiting for permission. Stiles can tell. So he just huffs out a breath, sorts out his covers and shifts over slightly. "Come on then," he says as if he's speaking to a puppy who wants to get up onto the sofa, and Derek just kind of shuffles over, taking off his jacket and sliding in next to Stiles.

There's no touching, or nuzzling or intimacy. Stiles wasn't, and still isn't quite sure if this is a Pack thing. It had started when Stiles was seventeen and Derek still hadn't sorted out his house. Stiles had felt bad for him because he'd just skulk in the basement alone, so one night he'd just called Derek and told him he could take the sofa for the night. Which then escalated to the foot of Stiles' bed on the floor when his dad started working dayshifts, which then escalated to the bed because Derek moaned.

And then he went to College. And things changed.

Stiles doesn't question it, not aloud anyway. He just lets Derek be Derek, and he falls into a slumber. His sleep is dreamless and peaceful, and when he wakes up he's alone.

* * *

Then Isaac decides to turn up on the Stilinski porch at midnight on the Wednesday, bleeding out on the steps and calling for Stiles.

It's a heartbreaking shout, Isaac's voice choking in the back of his throat and cutting off at the end as if his throat just gave out completely. Stiles hears his name but he isn't quite sure if he's dreaming or not. At first he just thinks it's Derek because he hasn't shown up yet to do that weird sleeping-in-the-bed-and-leaving-in-the-morning thing that they don't talk about but...the sound disturbs him and sounds too real to be his imagination, so he drags himself out of bed to shuffle over to his window. He rubs his eyes from sleep and yawns, looking outside and squinting against the darkness, using only the streetlamp for light which is when he sees Isaac at the bottom of his porch. And there's blood. A lot of it.

Going into panic mode, he shoves on a pair of shoes and, not even bothering to put any pants on, rushes downstairs and throws open the front door. Thank God it's not winter, he thinks, considering he's only got an old t-shirt on and a pair of boxer briefs, because otherwise he'd be freezing his dick off right about now.

He grabs Isaac's collar and yanks him up so Isaac is now leaning against his shoulder, and he drags the wolf inside and lays him out on the hallway floor. His hands are covered in Isaac's blood and the scratches aren't healing as quickly which only means this is something supernatural, but Stiles doesn't even think of that now. He takes off his shirt and pushes it against the deepest cut on Isaac's collarbone, staunching the blood and then he's calling for his dad who ruses down along with Melissa to help.

He's running up his stairs now, two at a time and grabbing his phone from his desk. He isn't exactly sure who to call first. Deaton? Scott? Derek? In the end he sends a quick key smash of a text to practically everyone in his phonebook and then he's running back down the stairs to Isaac. His eyes are sunken and he looks ill, his own hands scrambling for his shirt as it sticks to his body with blood. Stiles just kind of stares for a second because what the Hell is this? Melissa has the first aid kit box open and she's swabbing at the wounds which, although look a little better than when Stiles first saw them, they're still open and gaping and _gross_, and Stiles has to look away for a second because he thinks he might faint.

Then the front door is being flown open and Derek is there, standing in the doorway and it reminds Stiles of the first Harry Potter movie where Hagrid appears on Harry's birthday looking all big and mysterious and scary. Derek's eyes are wide with shock and he looks kind of sleep deprived, but he rushes forward (leaves the door open, come on Derek were you born in a barn?) and kneels at Isaac's side. No words are exchanged but Isaac seems calmer and more collected, and this must just be another one of those Pack things that Stiles will never get. Seriously, he could write a book on it.

"What happened?" Sheriff Stilinski asks, and Isaac opens his mouth to speak but coughs, and blood trickles down the side of his mouth and Melissa dabs it away with a cloth. He gently moves her hand away and reaches down for his shirt, his claws have come out and he's ripping his shirt in two, pulling away the fabric to what Stiles seems is a bare chest.

Until he looks over his dad's shoulder.

The word "warning" is carved into Isaac's chest with what looks to be claws. Each cut looks so deep, red, bloody and disgusting that Stiles has to turn away again, looking at anywhere but Isaac. He hears Melissa cry out and his dad gasp, Derek says nothing and Isaac hisses in pain as he attempts to move.

Stiles doesn't know what's happening. His mind is awash with theories and thoughts and _blood everywhere_, but he knows one thing for certain. He's not leaving Beacon Hills until this is over.

Whatever "this" is.

* * *

Isaac's cuts take just over a day to heal, affirming Stiles' theory that something distinctly _not human _had decided to make a canvas out of Isaac's chest. Melissa still looks a bit scarred by the whole "there's a werewolf in my hallway and he's soaking the carpet with blood ew gross" debacle, so Stiles kind of stays out of the house and spends most of his time with Isaac, who keeps telling him that he doesn't need to be there but Stiles keeps assuring him that he _wants to be_. Derek hasn't been seen in over two days, so Stiles makes a trip there, stealing (borrowing) Erica's car keys from the dish on the table by the door and leaving a note, _taken the car, don't bite me, Stiles_ and he travels over to the Hale household for some good ol' Derek'n'Stiles bonding time.

He gets there and the house is quiet, but he can see that the living room light is on so he just walks into the house without knocking. Derek is hunched over his computer, tapping on the keyboard; one key at a time and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"What are you doing?" He asks, tucking the keys away in his pocket and walking closer to the wolf.

"Paying bills," he responds, not even bothering to look away from the screen and Stiles almost chokes.

"That's such a domestic thing to do I almost want to cry," he says and Derek huffs, scowls a little at the screen and then returns to normal, as if Stiles hadn't even bothered him in the first place.

Stiles just stands there for a while until Derek's finished doing what he's doing, and then the computer shuts down and Derek stands up from the chair.

"We need to talk," Stiles states simple and firmly, and his gaze doesn't falter from Derek's face which looks solemn and strangely not scowly.

"If this is about..." Derek begins, but Stiles cuts him off.

"About... Isaac..." he says and Derek shuts his mouth and nods, leading them out into the kitchen so he can take out leftover lasagne from the fridge and heat it up in the microwave, shoving some onto a plate and pushing it in front of Stiles.

Stiles had already eaten at Casa Del werewolf but he doesn't say anything as Derek has gone all domestic all of a sudden and Stiles is so shocked he can't say anything, so he shoves his face full of pasta instead so he's just doing _something_. Derek eats cautiously as if his pasta is going to up and eat him, his eyes never leaving Stiles as he stares at him from across the table.

"What?" Stiles asks, his cheeks full of food and he swallows, wincing slightly as too much went down too fast.

"I just forgot how much you ate," Derek says, a smile playing on his lips but it soon disappears as he eats another mouthful.

"Oh har har," Stiles starts, placing his fork on the table and sitting back in his chair, "it's actually _nice _to have real food, living on your own doesn't exactly have its benefits you know, cooking for one is quite depressing."

"I live on my own."

"Yeah and how much of your time are you actually spending alone? You've got an entire teenage werewolf Pack to fill your entertainment needs; I just have Netflix and a bookmarked folder full of porn."

"Why did you come here, Stiles?"

"I've already told you," Stiles says, annoyed, "to talk about Isaac. I know you know what did this to him, so if you'd kindly share your wisdom that would be much appreciated thank you."

"It was an Alpha."

"Gosh you get straight to the point don't yo-wait what?"

An Alpha? What the Hell was another Alpha doing in Beacon Hills? He thought that Derek had already sorted out all of this werewolf territory shit ages ago.

"An Alpha," Derek repeats, finishing off his lasagne and dropping his fork on the plate so it lands with a loud *chink*, "If an Alpha maims you, it takes longer to heal. Those were claw marks, they took over a day to heal, ergo Alpha."

"You don't seem annoyed by this whole situation," Stiles says, and he's right. He doesn't. Derek's just sat there shrugging his shoulders as if this was an everyday thing. Oh, must be a Thursday!

"I can't afford to lose it," Derek says simply, and Stiles cocks his head to the side and just sighs.

"That's a stupid thing to say," Stiles begins, and his voice is strangely soft considering he's insulting a werewolf, and he's wondering if he's treading on thin ice because they haven't quite gotten back into that Derek'n'Stiles flow yet, "you can't just be this massive hulking great werewolf with no emotions, everyone has their flaws."

Derek's eyebrows furrow, and there's something there that Stiles can't quite fathom out but it's gone as quickly as it arrived. Derek gets up from the table, grabs Stiles' empty plate and takes them over to the sink.

"Is this it then?" Stiles asks, getting up from the table and straightening out his shirt.

"What do you mean?" Derek asks, walking over towards Stiles but stopping a few inches short, which is too close for it to _not _be intimate, but Stiles says nothing on the matter. His breath hitches as Derek inches closer, and Stiles can practically feel Derek's breath on his bare skin. He swallows once and then stills, his heart skips a beat because Derek's just _there in front of him_, and he can smell his cologne and he has that scent of the woods and it's musky and _nice _and...

And he needs to stop this. Because what the Hell is Derek doing? Stiles has a...person he sleeps with from time to time...back home, back in New York and here's Derek getting all up in his grill and he doesn't know what to do.

"Derek," he says, and upon hearing his name something seems to snap. Derek's eyes dart from Stiles' mouth up to his eyes, and he's taking a few steps back and composing himself, shaking his head as if to scold himself mentally for whatever the fuck just happened.

Something stirs in Stiles and he just wants to reach out and _touch him_, because there's always been something there, some weird unfathomable spark between them that they've been keeping to themselves because it just wasn't the right time to do anything about it.

And neither is now. Because Isaac's just been hurt and there's an Alpha in town that seems to be after the Pack and Stiles doesn't want anyone to get hurt.

Derek opens his mouth as if to say something but he shuts it again, his eyes looking anywhere but Stiles, and Stiles is half tempted to reach out and cup his face and just say _look at me_, but he doesn't because that would be gravely stupid.

"I should go," he says, reaching out an arm and pointing in the general direction of the door in an awkward manner, and Derek doesn't even say anything, he just nods. "Thanks for the lasagne, it was good. I didn't know you could cook."

"Erica made it."

Stiles almost spits out a laugh because he should have seen that one coming really. Erica, no matter how feisty or sassy or scary she is, has always looked out for others, perhaps even more so than Stiles. He doesn't know whether this is a need or a want, but she's always been there regardless, and he loves her for it, he really does.

Stiles turns on his heels and heads towards the door, but there's a hand on his shoulder so he stops. He turns around and they're practically chest to chest, and Stiles is about to protest again but Derek stops him.

"Can I...is it okay to..."

Come and sleep in my room tonight? "Yes, of course it is."

Derek nods again and lets go of Stiles, who promptly leaves, confused and a little bit horny.

* * *

Allison is on the Beacon Hills Council. She's pretty high up too, from what Stiles can muster, because it seems as if she's the first person the Pack (aside from Derek of course, because he and Scott _still _aren't speaking, something Stiles really needs to sort out before he leaves again) turn to when there's something fishy going on.

Like today. Stiles and Lydia (_sans_ Jackson, for once) are over at Scott and Allison's, and Allison is there with her briefcase looking all posh and smart and too-good-for-Scott in Stiles' opinion, but then she gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and Scott practically melts, and Stiles has to stifle a laugh because wow, it's been like what, eight years? And he's still head over heels.

"The council suspect nothing, there's been no suspicious activity, nothing reported to the police, nothing."

"So this attack is personal then," Stiles says and it makes him unnerved, Lydia shivers slightly next to him so he reaches out and places a gentle hand on her arm, "this Alpha is after the Pack."

"It seems so," Allison replies, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, "if anything is said at the next meeting I'll report to you straight away."

Hang on, since when did Stiles become some sort of second in command? He just nods, a little confused but stays silent because he doesn't really want to mention that no, it's Derek she should be speaking to, because him and Scott are still on the schtum terms.

It's been two days since Derek and Stiles have spoken. Even though for the past two days, Derek has turned up at Stiles' window, let himself in, taken off his jacket and gotten into bed with Stiles. But then Stiles sleeps and wakes up and the left side of the bed is empty, as per usual.

But tonight is different. Derek does his whole 'opens the window, saunters in all mysterious, takes off his jacket and gets into bed' routine, but there's something inside of Stiles that misses talking to Derek.

So he speaks.

"This can't keep happening if we're not speaking to each other," Stiles says. He and Derek are back to back, almost touching, and Stiles can feel the heat radiating off the wolf and it's tempting to just lean back a little so they're touching, but he doesn't.

"I didn't know we weren't speaking to each other," comes the response, gruff and hoarse as if Derek is tired and a little fed up.

It's silent for about ten minutes, but strangely not awkward. It's like one of those silences where it _should _be filled with talking, because there's so much that Stiles wants to say, _needs _to say, first off being "sorry", but he can't seem to form that word on his lips. He isn't quite sure as to whether it's because he's stubborn or because he doesn't really mean it, so he pushes that thought to the back of his mind where all the others seem to be at this moment in time.

"Do you think," he begins, taking a deep breath and swallowing. He can tell Derek is awake because his breaths are uneven and shallow, as if he's _nervous _or something. "Do you think if I hadn't had stayed in New York, we..."

"Go to sleep Stiles," Derek says, and shifts so he's more under the covers, and Stiles sighs, shuts his eyes, and obeys.

* * *

Mrs Morrison's cat Archie dies the next day.

No, dies isn't quite the term, _slashed to death _is.

Mrs Morrison is found outside cradling the mangled body of her three year old cat, and her clothes are stained bloody and _gross_. The street have gathered on the road to console Mrs Morrison as she's about a hundred and they don't want her keeling over and dying, so they try to calm her as much as she can but she won't let go of Archie, and Stiles just stands there and watches Mrs Morrison's heart break because what else can he do?

He knows who did this. The Alpha. Another warning. _A warning for what_? What could the Pack have possibly done to piss this Alpha off enough to slash up Isaac and kill a cat? He can't watch this anymore, so he calls a cab and goes over to Casa del werewolf, where he's consoled by a touchy Erica and a fully-healed Isaac (Boyd is at work because unlike the other two, he's actually bothered to get up off his ass), even though he's not the one that needs consoling. But everything seems to be pulled towards him, like he's some kind of trouble magnet or something. Which, actually, he's been called plenty of times by his dad before, so that's no surprise really.

"Perhaps I should just leave and go back to New York, everything was fine there," Stiles says into Erica's shoulder as she pulls him in for a hug so tight the breath is knocked out of him at first. Not that he's complaining really, Erica shifts him slightly so his head is practically in cleavage city, and he just sits there and focuses on his breathing, and soon he and Erica are breathing in sync and he's calm again.

"m'fgne" he says into her chest, and Erica laughs and pulls him back a little so he can actually speak. "I'm fine," he repeats, smiling and clear, and Erica just shakes her head and pulls him back in to cleavage city once again.

"Stiles you're not fine, you leave for two years, come back to see everyone and then shit goes down? This is not your year is it," and Stiles attempts to shake his head but, considering Erica's hand is on the back of his head, fails miserably. Isaac kind of nuzzles at Stiles' side, and wrenching one arm free he pulls Isaac in for a hug, so they're kind of in some kind of hug pile on the sofa for a while but that's okay. He stays for dinner, goes home and apologizes to his dad for being late. "Stiles you're not sixteen anymore, you can stay out past eleven o'clock you know," his dad laughs, and Stiles shuffles on his feet and rubs his hand over his hair a few times.

"Force of habit. Night dad," he replies, goes upstairs and opens his bedroom door, fully expecting to find Derek already in his bed. He says nothing, strips down to a t-shirt and his boxers, climbs in next to a sleeping Derek, and is lulled to sleep by the Alpha's breaths.

The Pack meeting happens the next day. And it's the first time that the entire Pack has been together since Stiles' arrived, and he's secretly excited. Because even Scott and Allison show up.

They order pizza (correction: Stiles orders pizza because everyone else is too lazy to ring a phone), and then they set down to business.

Allison speaks about how the Council literally have no idea what's going on, as if they're oblivious to the whole thing. "Good," Derek grunts, and Stiles nods in agreement because if the police catch on it means they can't do anything themselves.

"What exactly are we going to do?" Stiles asks after no one actually asks the most obvious question, and Derek opens his mouth to speak.

"_You _aren't doing anything. _We _on the other hand are going to patrol the area and see who's new in town. Erica, Boyd, you know what to do, you take first shift."

"Right on captain," Erica replies, giving a salute and Derek just rolls his eyes.

"Uh," Stiles says, holding out his hands to stop Derek from cutting him off, "what do you mean I'm not doing anything?" He's annoyed because he knows _exactly _what Derek is going to say next. He is so confident that he mouths the words.

"You're human," Derek says, and stops because he catches on to what Stiles is doing and suddenly he's angry and pulling Stiles up by the collar of his jacket and breathing in his face and holy crap angry Derek is angry, all they need now is a wall and they've got sixteen year old Stiles once again.

"I can't afford you getting hurt Stiles, this is a _wolf _problem, you are not a _wolf_, you are breakable and we aren't. This is an Alpha we're dealing with, a wolf a hundred times more powerful than a beta so if I were you I'd stay out of this or I will chain you up and God forbid if you escape I will rip your throat out with my teeth."

Stiles pushes Derek away with both hands, and even though Derek is built like an ox, he lets him. Stiles thinks maybe Derek does have a shred of humanity left in him and he actually feels quite guilty, but the anger on Derek's face suggests otherwise.

"You know, I'm not forced to be here, Derek. You didn't bite me. I'm human, I chose to be a part of this Pack, so if you want my help for your little errands then you better start giving a shit because otherwise I'm done here."

It feels as if he and Derek are the only people in the room. There's so much _anger _between them that they've bottled up, and as much as Stiles doesn't want to fight in front of the rest of the Pack, now seems like a good time to just vent.

"If you're going to leave, Stiles just do it. It seems to be a recurring trait of yours anyway."

That hits Stiles, and it hits Stiles hard. All of the guilt he's been boxed up makes it way to the surface and hits him like a tidal wave so big he actually takes a step back from the shock. Derek's just standing there in front of him, fists balled up by his side and he's fuming. And Stiles isn't sure whether to break down and cry or punch the living shit out of Derek because he's angry and sad and frustrated and just _sad _at the same time, an there are so many emotions going through his brain right now, he's not sure which one to grab a hold of and feel first.

"I guess I'll just live up to your standards then," Stiles says, calmly and it's worrying because he's biting back a shout or a cry of aggravation so much he's actually gnawing the inside of his cheek, and he can taste that copper flavour of blood fill his mouth and splash on his tongue as he breaks the skin. He can hear Scott tell him to sit down, and Isaac just kind of whine generically but he turns on his heels and exits the Hale house because if he stays any longer, it'll be the death of him.

* * *

So he just walks. He walks through the woods and out to the main road. It's hot and sunny and the heat is radiating off the road and it makes the asphalt warm. The trees provide some shade but not much, so fifteen minutes into his walk home he's sweating and just plain tired, so he's kind of thankful that Scott and Allison pull up beside him and tell him to get in the car. He doesn't say anything at all, he just obliges and sits in the back seat, wiping at his brow and groaning a cry of frustration.

"He's just angry, he doesn't want to see you get hurt," Allison soothes him softly and it works for all of three milliseconds before he's throwing his hands up in anger.

"That's not his decision to make! I came back here to see all of you, and I missed my flight to stay with you guys and help you through this so he should just respect and accept my decision. I'm putting my own life on the line, no one else's, so I don't see why he's so angry. Half the time I expect he wants me dead anyway."

"Stiles don't say that, you know it's not true," comes Scott's voice, and Stiles just sighs because his best friend is such an idiot.

"So is," Stiles huffs like a child and Allison laughs, which irks him but he doesn't say anything because he doesn't want an earful from Scott. Stiles looks up and sees Scott roll his eyes in the wing mirror so he just gives up and lounges back in his seat and listens to Allison asks Scott what they're going to have for dinner tonight because if he thinks of Derek he will probably explode.

* * *

He gets home, greets his dad and goes upstairs to his window, pulling the latch across to lock it.

Half an hour later, he unlocks it again.

Derek doesn't show up though, and Stiles can't help but miss him a little when he's alone in bed that night and for some reason, unable to sleep.

* * *

He's buying groceries because Melissa is at work and his dad, although retired has gone into the station to help with some paperwork (Stiles was angry at first because his dad can never seem to be able to sit down and just enjoy the fact he doesn't have to work again, nope he has to drive in and help around like some intern). He's in the fruit aisle, looking at the shopping list Melissa has written, and wondering why the Hell she needs _dragon fruits_, when there's a chill down his spine. And not like an "it's freezing turn the air con off" chill, but a _something bad is about to happen _chill. One of those feelings you get when you feel psychic for a second.

"Stiles."

It takes him a second or two to pinpoint the voice because, well because he hasn't heard it in just over six years. His brain immediately knows that this voice is the cause of his weird psychic episode, and he goes through a list of people he's come across over the past six years that would cause his body to react such a way. The deep voice, the little hoarseness at the edges, the slow, drawled out tones...

Aiden.

Stiles turns around and his hands leave the shopping cart and come to rest in his jeans pockets.

Aiden at first glance looks no different, but then why should he? Werewolves have that weird thing where they don't age as quick...but if Stiles looks closely he can see shallow but defined lines at the edges of his eyes, and there are a few on his brow, something Stiles' dad likes to call _stress _lines, as he's gathered many over time from being in the force.

"Aiden," Stiles says, rather too chirpily for his liking but he goes with it, and Aiden flashes that toothy grin that creeps out Stiles because it's just _weird_. Someone so twisted shouldn't grin like that.

Aiden rolled into town six years ago with his Pack. The Alpha Pack. His twin brother Ethan Stiles could just about tolerate because intellectually they were on the same level, but Aiden was like Jackson. Only ten times more of a douche and Stiles couldn't actually believe that that person could be out there but lo and behold, he was put into Stiles' English class.

"Out of all the places I thought our reunion could take place, I didn't think it would be in the fruit aisle of a store," Aiden says and smiles again.

"Uh a little creepy and weird but okay," Stiles replies, taking his hands out of his pockets and rubbing a hand over his head because even though he's strangely calm, he's a little nervous as well because what on Earth is happening here?

Aiden says nothing, so Stiles looks at him. His dark brown hair is longer, his eyes look a little crazier, but he looks slightly skinnier and just plain tired. He's a little shorter than Stiles but not by much, which doesn't really matter really considering he's built like a house. All brawns this one, his brother has the brain.

When it's clear Aiden is just going to stand there and look at him like he's a piece of meat, Stiles decides to make conversation because frankly, he doesn't want to be eaten. "So why are you in town?" He asks politely, his pulse racing slightly because now he's worried. He can see the moment where Aiden has decided to turn on those freaky werewolf senses because as soon as his pulse spikes, Aiden grins more and leans in slightly and just _sniffs_.

Which is just downright weird and creepy, and Stiles recoils. "Ew dude," he says, his thigh smashing into the shopping cart so now it's throbbing slightly.

"Nice to see you Stiles," Aiden almost sings, and then he just leaves. What the Hell? He gets out his phone and goes to dial Derek, but pauses and dials Allison instead. "Allison?" He says as soon as he hears her voice, "I think we've got a problem."

* * *

He's not really surprised that later that day Derek shows up at his door (at his DOOR) all huffy and wolfy and Derek. At least he had the courtesy to knock first and oh, not jump through his window.

"Derek!" Stiles says loudly as he throws the door open, "how lovely to see you, what do you need from me now?"

Derek cocks his head to the side and does his stupid mock laugh thing that Stiles _hates, _and he just walks past and into the empty living room where Stiles was previously watching some comedy show.

"Please come in," Stiles says sarcastically, shutting the door and following Derek "make yourself at home."

"Why didn't you come to me and tell me that Aiden was back in town?" Derek asks, his voice low and growly and slow, as if he's scolding a child.

"Because I am under the assumption we are not talking Derek and usually when someone isn't talking to someone else, they don't phone them up and have a leisurely conversation."

Derek ignores this. "Did he say why he was back in town?"

"Y..." And Stiles stops. Because no, he didn't say why he was back in town. He completely skipped the question and went on to the sniffing. "No," Stiles says, "no he didn't."

Something clicks. And it hits Stiles so hard that his heart wrenches because his memory flashes back to Isaac. "No. Derek no you don't think..."

"Alpha. He's an Alpha Stiles."

It takes a few minutes for Stiles to compose himself because his thoughts are going a mile a minute. The "warning" slashed into Isaac's chest. The dead cat with its insides torn open and Mrs Morrison's face as she held the mangled thing in her arms. The way Aiden avoided the crucial question because he knows Stiles is good at spotting a liar. They've encountered each other before, back when the Alpha Pack were first in Beacon Hills due to territorial issues.

"You think he's back to gain land?" Stiles asks, and Derek just raises an eyebrow and drops it again.

"I hardly think so, but it's entirely plausible. But where's the rest of his Pack?"

"They disbanded after you killed Deucalion; they're not exactly a Pack without a leader are they?" Which always confused Stiles. Because Deucalion was an Alpha of an Alpha Pack. He was an Alpha Alpha werewolf. Which now makes the rest of them Alpha omega werewolves. This is all too confusing for Stiles and he's glad he's stayed human.

"Guess not," Derek shrugs and stands up as if to leave, straightening out his shirt from where it bunched up slightly being sat down at an awkward angle.

"Hang on, is that it? You come over here to lecture me like I'm some child you want to get information out of and then you just leave?"

"You're not exactly useful in these situations, Stiles, how are you going to fair up against an Alpha?"

"I stand up to you pretty well."

"That's because you're in my Pack and I am stupid enough to let you."

"I'm in your Pack? Would be nice of you to acknowledge it every once in a while."

Derek backs him up against a wall and it's the situation at the Hale household all over again.

"I would have if you'd have come back to visit. Pack members don't exactly leave their Pack for over two years unless they've left for good or they're dead."

It comes out as a snarl, a growl that doesn't actually terrify Stiles but just annoys him. He's fuming because Derek's thrown his insult back in his face and used the "you left" line that he just fucking _knows _gets to Stiles because he's outwardly guilty of the fact.

And then Stiles notices Derek's eyes snaking down his face and stopping at his lips, which are parted slightly because breathing through his nose is a no-no right about now as Stiles is all but breathless, partly out of frustration and partly because _Derek Hale is shoving him up against a wall_.

And before he can stop it (not that he wants to although he totally should Stiles why aren't you stopping this) Derek's mouth is on his.

It's not intimate. It's more of a "I hate you, you left and now you're back and feelings and ugh" kiss, a hard smash of their lips as they mash together and they are scrabbling at each other's shoulders and necks just so there's more skin touching skin, for leverage and for realisation that this is _real_. Derek forces Stiles' mouth open with his and plunges his tongue inside, licking the roof which makes Stiles moan and he lets him, lets him take control and dominate his mouth because he _wants _this. More than he should and more than he'd like, but this lust that has consumed them both for the past eight years has finally broken Derek and he made the move first.

Holy crap, Derek kissed _him _not the other way around.

And then the flood of adrenaline and endorphins is too much for Stiles and he's now pushing at Derek to just _back away_ because his brain is too messy and uncoordinated and Stiles doesn't like it.

Derek just stands there, a mere few inches separating him and Stiles and his eyes are wide as if he's literally only just realised what he's done. His lips are swollen and flushed pink and Stiles almost groans and pulls him back in for round two because he just looks so fucking attractive it hurts. But they just look at each other, and then Derek caves, breaks eye contact, turns around and leaves.

Without saying a word.

And he leaves Stiles situated up against the wall and just panting for air, his breaths shallow and uneven. His left shoulder starts throbbing slightly, and he turns to look and sees that his shirt is shred somewhat and there's three shallow gashes that are slowly oozing blood. He almost laughs because he really should have felt that but considering he was so caught up in that moment that had come _eight years too late_, he had completely missed it.

But now he knows it's there, it hurts like a bitch, so he goes upstairs and takes out the first aid kit from under his bathroom sink (something he's kept there since he was sixteen, running with wolves back then proved to be quite dangerous and now it seems kissing them has the same outcome), bandaging up Derek's "handiwork" and he sits on his bed and waits for Derek, unsure if he's going to show up tonight and be all "sorry I hurt you that can't happen again" and Stiles isn't sure whether he's going to agree, or kiss him again.

Derek doesn't show up, and they don't speak of "it" again. As if it never happened, Stiles tells himself, yes he can cope with that. He's been in plenty of those situations where he wants to pretend it never happened.

* * *

The next day is pretty much judgement day according to Stiles. Because Derek texts him and elects _him _to be the one to break it to the Pack that Aiden is back in town. And he doesn't want to see the look on Isaac's face when he realises it was Aiden who mauled him, and he doesn't want Erica to get all antsy and protective over everyone, and he doesn't want Jackson to throw out some stupid sarcastic and totally uncalled for comment towards him. But Derek usually has his way so, he gets picked up by Scott and Allison and they travel to the Hale house.

It's funny because he originally came back here because he wanted to see his dad. And now he's hardly spending any time with him because wolves have intervened yet again. This is just going to be his life, isn't it? No matter how far or fast he runs...they're always going to be there.

He sighs, and Allison looks at him through the wing mirror but Stiles doesn't say anything. He thinks that perhaps he should have made some kind of speech written on cards because, why couldn't Derek tell his own Pack that Aiden was back? Oh that's right, because everything bad happens to Stiles. The trouble magnet. There is one thing he's happy about though. Scott and Derek are speaking again and, truth be told, Stiles knows that it's partly his doing. So he has something to feel proud about at least, if at all. The car journey is far too quick and soon they're there, and Stiles gets out of the car but is held back by Allison.

"Stiles can I talk to you for a minute?" she asks, sincerely and Stiles just nods. "There's a place as Head of History going at Beacon Hills High, and I was just wondering..."

Stiles shakes his head. No, no there was a reason he left. He has a life in New York now, an apartment, a job, a running routine, a favourite coffee shop. "I can't, Allison, you know I can't. I can't just leave everything behind."

"You've done it once before," Scott shrugs and walks in the direction of the Derek's house. Stiles knows he's pretty much oblivious as to how much that hurt him, Scott was only stating a true fact. Allison, see sees it though and her face is a look of pity and worry, but Stiles just laughs and follows Scott inside even though he's a little mad at him right now.

Stiles is already spending more than enough time at Derek's house. Yeah it's been done up and there's wallpaper and electricity and actual appliances now, but it's still a house where many were murdered over fifteen years ago, and he just _wishes_ for Derek's sanity that he would just pack up his stuff and move out. Derek's sitting on the sofa and Stiles can see him look away as he enters the room and wow Derek childish much, but Stiles just sits down next to Erica who pulls him in for a hug and this is nice.

And then Derek kind of grunts and Stiles knows that he should start talking now, so he shifts and Erica's legs are on his lap and he strokes her ankle (Stiles swears he can hear her purr like a cat and he has to stifle a laugh), and he speaks.

"Aiden showed up yesterday," he says. There's no way he can put it anything other than blunt, and there's a cascade of responses around the room, from Allison's nod, to Erica's gasp and Isaac's whimper.

"Aiden as in, the same Aiden who was in the Pack where the leader killed three humans in the space of a week and then he tried to kill you?" Boyd asks and Stiles just nods.

"Yeah," he says, "that Aiden."

"So you're saying..." Erica begins but Derek cuts them all off.

"That Aiden is the Alpha that gave Isaac a makeover? That killed that old woman's cat? Yeah, yeah that's what we're saying."

And there's silence. Because no one knows what to say. Until Jackson speaks up that is.

"So we kill the guy, I don't see why we're here, I'm not going to lie but I've been here a lot the past two weeks and it's getting on my nerves now."

Preach it, sister.

Lydia smacks him on the arm and for a second Stiles thinks he can see guilt in his eyes, but then it's quickly replaced by anger and Jackson is back to normal once more.

"If only it were that simple," Erica says, "if Aiden's part of a bigger Pack and we just decide to kill him – with no proof may I add considering Isaac is as good as new – we're not exactly large in numbers, are we? We have to go about this a tactical way, catch him in the act and cast him out, find out who his new Pack is and speak to them, tell Jackson to scowl at him a while and scare him off..."

And then a verbal fight breaks out. Jackson's arguing with Erica, Lydia and Boyd are telling them to calm down. Allison and Scott are talking loudly about how they are both conflicted over what they should do as Allison doesn't want to go back into hunting but Scott thinks it's best if she's armed. Isaac's just kind of sat there in the arm chair looking back and forth between Erica and Jackson, but nodding slightly whenever Erica makes a point. Derek says nothing.

Stiles stands. "Um, hello?" He says, to no avail so he slams his fist onto the table and speaks again. "Stiles speaking! Over here!" The arguing doesn't let up, so he looks at Derek for help and Derek just rolls his eyes and growls so loudly that everyone freezes in their seat. Content, Derek leans back and watches Stiles.

"Thank you," Stiles says and turns back towards the Pack, whose eyes are all now on him. "I think we're missing the vital question here guys."

The Pack look at him with confusion etched onto their faces as they try to figure out what Stiles could possibly be speaking about. Is it really going to take them that long? He sighs.

"What is he warning us about?" Stiles says finally, and nobody speaks.

Because nobody knows.

* * *

His bed is cold. It's about a thousand degrees outside even though it's midnight, but his bed is cold. Of course it's not really, not physically anyway and Stiles is fully aware of that fact, but it certainly feels it. Perhaps it's him that's cold instead; perhaps it's his mind that's cold and strangely empty. In fact, his whole body feels empty. As if his heart as been taken out and just... not returned. He feels cold and empty and alone.

He reaches out and his hand lingers over his phone on the bedside table, and he turns his head into the pillow because what he wants to do is so stupid but at just the thought of it, that empty place where his heart should be clenches, and then he has the phone in his hand.

Derek answers on the second ring. "Stiles," he says. Not even a hello or a 'why are you ringing me Stiles it's midnight'. Just a "Stiles".

It puts Stiles off for a second and he has to compose himself before he speaks. "I just...wanted to talk," he says finally, and he can hear Derek breathing into the phone as he doesn't say anything for a while.

"So talk," he says at last and Stiles almost screams out in frustration because Derek is _so _missing Stiles' invitation to come round and _just be there_.

Stiles isn't quite sure what to say. 'Please come over so we can do that thing where you sleep next to me and we don't talk because it's actually quite soothing'? No because that sounds creepy and weird in his head, even though that is exactly what happens. He hears Derek heave a sigh.

"I'll be right over," he says. Stiles' heart begins to race so he mumbles an "okay" and puts down the phone before he drops it.

Stiles is half asleep by the time Derek arrives around fifteen minutes later. He thinks that perhaps just the pure _thought_ that Derek is going to be here tonight calms him somehow, long enough that he could just drop his head onto his pillow and feel relaxed and warm. He hears Derek climb in through his window and sigh, but then he gets into the bed a minute later anyway. The warmth radiating off the werewolf's body is enough to make Stiles almost sweat, but it's comforting and he needs it right now and, without really caring anymore he shuffles backwards so their backs are touching. Derek doesn't move and Stiles counts this as a win, and he shuts his eyes and sleeps.

He wakes up and it's still dark. Stiles guesses it's about four in the morning. His position on the bed has changed, the covers are pulled up to his chin but there's an arm around his waist and he's now facing Derek, who is facing him back. Their mouths are inches away from each other and it takes all of Stiles' might _not _to kiss Derek awake. This is strangely comforting and it feels _right_, having Derek here so close and so intimate. He's warm and relaxed and calm and the longer he looks at Derek, the longer the feeling inside him grows that wow, this should have happened before he left for New York. Because there's always been something between them, always. Derek has always been so cryptic about his feelings, but Stiles seems to be the only one that can figure them out. He knows what makes Derek tick. He also knows how to annoy Derek so easily and sometimes Stiles revels in the fact that he gets to Derek so well. He's staring at Derek's face now, the defined jaw, the tight lips and furrowed brow, as if he's stressed, even when sleeping. And he can't help it. He frees one of his hands from underneath the pillow and he reaches up to stroke the lines on Derek's brow, as if to coax them back so his forehead is soft again and not so angry.

Derek opens an eye and Stiles' breath hitches but his fingers don't stop stroking, and then as soon as Derek's awake he leans forward and their lips touch tentatively, slow and gentle and this is the Derek that Stiles wants to know and be with, and this is the Derek that Stiles is coaxing out of him. His lips part automatically Derek deepens the kiss, his arm tightening around Stiles' waist and pulling him in further so their chests are touching and, even though they're both clothed, it's hot as Hell but weirdly Stiles doesn't want anymore at the moment. This is perfect enough as it is. His hand moves from Derek's forehead to hold his chin and his thumb strokes over Derek's stubble, it's scratchy but right, _so right_ and he runs his tongue over Derek's lips ever so slightly and the Alpha moans softly and pulls Stiles even closer, his own tongue dipping into Stiles' mouth and tangling with his, fighting for dominance but Stiles lets Derek win, he'll always let Derek win.

He's feeling lightheaded, and he isn't sure as to whether it's because he needs to breathe, or because of the pure thought that he's kissing Derek Hale. Stiles is the first to break away, but this time Derek knows not to leave, he knows to just stay there.

Stiles heard a quote once, and he thinks about it now because it seems so fitting, so relevant at this time that his heart wrenches.

"_Some hearts understand each other, even in silence."_

He can't remember who said it but he applauds the person that did because as he looks at Derek now, his face illuminated by the moon's light as they lay there together, silent and unmoving, their eyes just locked on to each other and this is so intimate and so gentle that Stiles can't really believe that he's in Derek's arms right now. So he smiles, a little half smile that causes Derek to pull Stiles back in and hold him close, not kissing but just breathing each other's air. Stiles laughs softly.

"Will you stay until I wake up this time?" He whispers, and each word that escapes his mouth makes his lips brush against Derek's, and Derek just nods and breathes out a "yes".

He does.

* * *

He's walking to Scott and Allison's house the next day, his laptop bag slung over his shoulder and his phone in his pocket, when a car pulls up beside him. It's a sleek black Porsche and as it rears closer Stiles can see it's a 911 turbo. Stiles stops walking and the Porsche stops just beside him, the windows are tinted but Stiles _knows _who's inside, it's pretty damn obvious considering the only other person Stiles knows with a car more expensive than the entirety of Beacon Hills is Derek Hale.

"Aiden," he says as the window opens to reveal Aiden with a sick smirk on his face.

"Let's skip the pleasantries, shall we?" Aiden says, looking straight ahead now, both hands on the steering wheel, "get in the car."

And Stiles does. Because he knows not to fuck around with Aiden, with any of the (former) Alpha Pack, because they're brutal and ruthless, and he bets if he didn't get in the car, Aiden would most probably hurt his friends or, even worse his dad. So he obeys. The interior of the car is black leather, and the seats are hot and the metal of the seatbelt burns his hand as he tries to put it on. He winces and Aiden just laughs. Because Stiles is worried about car safety whilst he's sat next to an Alpha.

He listens to the slow thrumming of the Porsche for a while. The air between them is tense and uncomfortable, and Stiles wants to speak so he feels more relaxed but he's not entirely sure what to say. Because he hates Aiden. He hates Aiden so much, more so than he did Gerard or Peter. Stiles has a scar on his leg, it's faint but he knows it's there, from when Aiden had tied him up to a chair and knifed him in the thigh to get him to talk.

He remembers it well, the dank smell of the basement he'd been locked up in. The tear of his flesh as the knife sliced through his leg and through muscle, the blood oozing out of the deep gash as he screamed in pain. All because he wouldn't tell them where the Pack were, where Scott was. Deucalion had some sort of vendetta against the hunters, especially those that had gone rogue, and Aiden was in on it. Deucalion had brainwashed Aiden so much (which wasn't exactly hard, considering Stiles is even shocked that Aiden learned how to drive) into being his partner. The others of the Alpha Pack had other motives however; it was just Deucalion's that were ulterior. Stiles had – literally – been caught in the middle of a Pack of lies, and his leg had nearly paid the price. It was a miracle when Derek killed Deucalion, but it was even more of a shock when Ethan forgave him for backing the wrong side, for being Deucalion's right hand man instead of his twin brother.

Ethan. "Where's your brother?" Stiles asks nonchalantly, as if he were speaking to Erica or Isaac.

Aiden growls, a short feral snarl but he carries on looking forward. "Dead," Aiden replies.

Oh.

They pull up outside of a motel on the corner of Beacon Hills, and Aiden instructs for Stiles to get out. Stiles obeys and follows Aiden to the second floor, hotel room 3C. The room is kind of shabby, the red curtains are faded and frayed and the carpet looks as if it hasn't been washed for about ten years. He sits down on the chair by the desk and half expects Aiden to shout at him or throw him against the window but he doesn't, he just stands in front of Stiles and smiles.

"I hope you found my present appealing," Aiden says, smirking and sitting down at the edge of the bed.

Stiles frowns. "Are you talking about mauling Isaac or gutting the cat? Because either one isn't exactly what I call pleasant."

"The cat! The cat Stiles, Lahey was just a simple warning for Derek," he says, shaking his head and holding out a hand to stop Stiles from speaking. "A warning that if he messes with me, I'll do a little more than slash Isaac next time. I'll kill his entire Pack."

Wow, Stiles thinks, dramatic. He stays calm. Years of being around werewolves and he's learned how to control himself, to keep his pulse rate from soaring and to keep the sweat from forming on his brow. He takes a breath. "What exactly are your intentions...with me?" Stiles asks and he almost laughs because it sounds like a conversation Derek should be having with the Sheriff sometime soon. If he makes it out of here alive. "Why am I here? What do you want with me?"

Aiden laughs. "All will be revealed my friend, for now you're here because I want you to _know _I'm here." He gets up and walks over to the door, turns around and winks at Stiles. "The room is paid for, stay here as long as you want. I wouldn't though," he looks around the room and wrinkles his nose, "this place isn't exactly the cleanest. Then what would you know? You've spent nights in worse places. Good day, Stiles."

Aiden's been tailing him. Those werewolves in the park across from where he lives...

That bastard.

He scrambles for his phone and calls Derek, tells him where he is and then without explaining, waits a few minutes until he hears Aiden's Porsche leave the motel car park, grabs his bag and hangs around outside for Derek.

Derek pulls up five minutes later, his face a look of worry and then everything seems okay again and Stiles just wants to kiss those frown lines away.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks, his voice contorted with worry and Stiles just nods.

"Just Aiden being Aiden," he says, a spring in his voice as if to cheer Derek up but to no avail. Derek grabs his chin and turns his head from side to side, checking for wounds or bite marks or bruises, and Stiles lets him because it'll ease his mind if Derek eases his own first.

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. He just wants me to know he's here I guess?"

"What does he want with you?"

"I literally have no idea," he responds, and he doesn't. He doesn't know what Aiden wants with him, or worse, what he's going to do with him. He's not really safe anywhere now because he's being tailed in New York as well, so he really has nowhere to go other than stay here in Beacon Hills. He has to protect his dad and his friends, and Derek and...

"Stiles? Stiles you're okay now, it's okay."

He doesn't even realise he's having a short panic attack until Derek is leaning across and touching Stiles' face gently, soothing and coaxing him into breathing right once more. "Just listen to my breathing and match it with yours, it's alright Stiles."

But it isn't alright. Because Aiden has fucked everything up once again, wherever he goes he's always putting someone in danger. That's the reason he stayed in New York in the first place, because he wanted the trouble to get away from his dad. He's a trouble magnet. He hates it. But he's got to help.

His breathing is back to normal and he gives Derek a half smile which tells him that Stiles is okay physically, so Derek starts the engine and drives away from the motel, a little faster than usual but Stiles just guesses Derek wants him home safe.

And then an idea comes to him. "Hey Derek? Do you still have Kali's number?"

* * *

It's eleven in the morning, and Stiles catches a cab to the coffee shop where he's to meet Kali. Both Derek and Scott almost pleaded to drive him there themselves but no, Stiles wants to do this on his own. It's his problem; he's going to get them out of it. Plus, what would it look like if he rolls up with a wolf in tow? No, he has to do this alone. The coffee shop on the outside looks a little old, but as he opens the door and the bell rings, a warm gust of air hits his face and he looks around. The shop is a cream colour and the furniture is a chocolate brown. Stiles isn't sure whether the homely feel is nice or rather discomforting. He orders a coffee (black – he used to drink it at the station with his dad when he was younger and his order has just stuck), and realising Kali isn't there yet, he takes a seat in the far corner on one of the smaller tables, and he waits.

A few minutes later, the bell above the door chimes and Kali strolls in, ordering her coffee and she sits down in front of Stiles and smiles. Wow, she's more beautiful than he remembers, and it takes a few moments for him to compose himself and say hi back. Her straight dark brown hair matches her hazel eyes, and she's wearing a low cut top (not Erica low cut, a respectable low cut) that, let's just say shows off her assets. Stiles totally doesn't look. Nope, not one bit.

"So nice to see you," Kali says, extending a hand and Stiles reaches out to shake it. Which is a little formal for his liking, he's more of a fist bump kind of guy but he rolls with it, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"It seems Beacon Hills has a problem," Stiles starts slowly, "with Aiden."

She's smiling, and then suddenly she's not. Stiles can see her hands tighten around her coffee mug as her face falls. She looks away from Stiles and down to her coffee, breathing a few times before responding.

"We don't speak anymore," she says simply but firmly, "not since what happened."

"You _owe _me," he says, and Kali stiffens in her seat.

Because she does.

When the Alpha Pack had first rolled into town and Deucalion had killed three humans, the hunters had automatically assumed Kali was in on it too. But in all honesty, as much as Stiles hated her for her wicked temper, she'd done nothing wrong. She had only come here to pick fights with werewolves over peace treaties and territories, she'd never actually hurt a Beacon Hills residence, not physically anyway.

So when she was captured by Chris Argent's ex hunter buddies, Chris, Allison and Stiles went on some kind of crazy werewolf-finding mission to save her. More for Chris and his morality to be honest, and Stiles only helped because Allison had called him up in the dead of night. And how could he say no? She had called _him_. Not Derek, not Lydia, not even Scott. Because she knew that Stiles could be trusted and not to break his word when he promised not to tell anyone. Because she knew that if anything were to happen, he'd get out of there right away and not try to be some kind of martyr. So they thought, anyway.

Stiles just looks at Kali with hard eyes, and she stares back for a few seconds until she breaks their gaze and looks away. "I'm sorry," she says taking another sip of her coffee and it seems as if she's shaking slightly which disturbs Stiles because he's hit something deep within her.

As if he's broken the werewolf outer layer and hit her humanity.

"I can't, Stiles you know I can't. As much as he's gone feral...we still spent ten years together. I don't have it in me."

Stiles finishes his coffee, throws a few dollars onto the table and stands up. "Then you're a coward," he responds plain and simple. He doesn't say it with anger; he doesn't say it with spite. He says it with pity and disappointment. He looks her up and down once, holds his ground for a few more seconds, and when it's clear that Kali isn't going to respond or even _look _at Stiles, he just leaves.

He goes for a walk because it's the only thing he can do to clear his head. He's out of options now, he had stupidly hoped Kali could knock some sense into Aiden to get his crazy werewolf ass out of Beacon Hills and back to wherever the Hell he came from. A mental institution most probably. He honestly does not know what to do now. Go back to Derek? Scott? New York? Home? It's as if his mind is at one of those crossroads, and he's looking at different pathways and deciding which one to go down, but considering they all pretty much look exactly the same (i.e.; endless questions), he's not sure which one to take. He feels alone.

So he goes to Beacon Hills library. Because what better to curb anger than to read a good book?

Beacon Hills library is about a million years old, and from the outside it looks as if it's about to fall down any day soon. But he loves it there. He loves it more than his local library in New York, because it feels like home. He used to come here when Scott and Allison were off on their trysts, and he'd sit down and listen to his iPod and do homework, which then mostly turned into research for Derek.

He walks inside and the Miss Jones at reception waves him a hello. He talks with her for a while because damn she used to be there when this was practically his second home and she asks how New York is and how College was and he tells her. She smiles widely and tells him to be on his way, and he goes straight to the History/Mythology section at the back of the library because that's where he spends most of his time in New York anyway.

And he bumps – literally – straight into Aiden. He's holding a book in one hand and he steadies Stiles with the other, who recoils from the touch as if he's been burned. Aiden just laughs. "I'm not a monster Stiles; you don't have to back away from me."

"Uh, pretty sure you are. Werewolf and all."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes I do, and you still are."

Aiden scowls and sets the book down on the table. The pages are open and it looks old fashioned, no pictures just small almost illegible writing. It looks like a Bestiary.

"Where did you get that?" Stiles asks, looking around the library because he doesn't exactly want to look at Aiden right now.

"It's my own. I brought it here myself, thought I'd brush up on my knowledge."

Stiles bites his tongue because he _so _wants to make a joke here about how it would take more than one book for Aiden to gain any knowledge at all, but he doesn't exactly want his face eaten off so he stays silent.

"Do you not want to know what I was reading about, Stiles?" He asks almost seductively and Stiles looks at him with disgust. He can read?

"No, not interested one bit," Stiles answers, but he side glances at the book and notices a few words. Wolf, Pack dynamics, Alpha.

"Hm," Aiden says, leaning towards Stiles and cocking his head slightly, "you've changed." He picks up his book, grins a goodbye to the Miss Jones at reception and then leaves.

* * *

Miss Jones is found dead the next day. Just outside the library in the car park by her car. Her throat slit. She bled out trying to lock her car.

She doesn't even need the word "warning" carved into her chest to know this is Aiden's way of saying "cooperate with me". His dad tells him and he feels sick to his stomach. He wants to vomit and shout and cry, but he can't because nobody knows. Hell, not even _he _knows what Aiden wants with him but considering he's now murdering people he talks to, he knows that whatever is about to come up, he's got to comply. Otherwise it'll be his family and close friends next.

When Derek turns up on the doorstep when the Sheriff and Melissa are out, Stiles lets him in and Derek pulls him in for a hug. Which is a totally _un-Derek _thing to do, but considering Stiles is all but broken right now, he doesn't question it.

Derek just thinks he's upset because someone died. Derek doesn't know that someone died because of Stiles.

They sit down on the sofa and talk for a while, about what to do about Aiden, about how much of a failure his meeting with Kali went. There's no kissing or intimacy, no touching at all because now isn't the time. Stiles makes some macaroni cheese for them both and they sit there and eat in silence, Stiles noticing Derek just watching him eat every now and again but he says nothing as he's hungry and he doesn't want to cause an argument.

"So Lydia and Jackson dug up some info on Aiden yesterday," Derek says once they've finished and walking back to the living room, and Stiles winces at the name but thankfully Derek doesn't notice, "she and Jackson got a hold of a few wolves in Alaska, apparently it was just him and his brother for a while."

Stiles stands still and Derek almost walks into the back of him. "Hold up how on Earth did Lydia and Jackson get a hold of werewolves in _Alaska_?" Stiles asks, and he's got to hand it to them but he's also got to learn their ways because wow holy crap.

"Jackson's all but a Lawyer now, he's got contacts."

"Plus his dad is like leader of the world," Stiles says.

"He works for the government Stiles, but close," Derek responds, sarcasm lacing his tone of voice and Stiles just rolls his eyes for an answer. Derek continues. "Anyway, his brother was killed three months ago by hunters as apparently Ethan had mauled a woman outside a bar. Which leads me to believe it was Aiden who killed the woman..."

"And Ethan got the rap for it. Wow, Aiden must be one huge ball of guilt right about now."

"I highly doubt it; I don't think he has enough brain cells to emit any other emotion apart from insanity."

"Oh burn, wolf's got jokes today!" Stiles laughs, looking at Derek who scowls and Stiles can't help but lean in slightly and wrap an arm around Derek's waist.

"Don't pout sour wolf," he replies, mock pouting himself and Derek's face softens and he smiles.

"You haven't called me that in six years," he says, looking Stiles in the eyes and Stiles' heart wrenches slightly at the thought that they could have been fucking doing this six years ago and this is his fault, so he doesn't say anything, he just leans forward and presses his forehead to Derek's and they just stay like that for a while, unmoving and silent, their own heartbeats whispering a thousand words of their own.

* * *

It's becoming harder and harder to think about going back to New York. And not just because he doesn't want trouble to follow him. But because of his friends, and Derek, and his dad. When you're away from your family you miss them a lot sure, but seeing them and then leaving again? Practically tears your heart in two and it's killing Stiles inside that he has to leave again.

Plus, he doesn't want to leave Derek. He's not entirely sure what this thing they have is, and he knows Derek is being so careful because he fully expects Stiles to go back to New York and leave him again so they don't talk about it. Because he knows it'll lead to arguments and falling out and more shoving up against walls which lead to kissing, then the circle starts over again.

But Stiles can't help it. This overwhelming urge to touch Derek is like fire in veins; his fingertips practically tingle at the thought of stroking Derek's face, his stubble scratching at Stiles' skin and turning him on so much he can't even begin to think about what'd happen if they ended up naked together.

* * *

They're in bed a few days after Aiden last shows his face, it's around one am and Derek has just turned up through the window, this time undressing down to just his underwear and he gets into bed, pulling the covers over him and pulling Stiles close. And Stiles can't help it. He can't. He grinds his ass up against Derek's crotch involuntarily (totally voluntary) and then Derek just freezes. But Stiles smiles because Derek is totally turned on right now, Stiles can feel it.

"Stiles."

"Yes?"

"No."

He's not giving up. He moves his ass again and Derek's grip on Stiles tightens, and Stiles isn't sure whether this is a sign to carry on or to stop, but he takes it as the former and he turns around so he's now facing Derek. Derek's eyes are wide and dilated from what Stiles can see, and Stiles definitely counts this as a 'please carry on', so he surges forward and captures Derek's lips with his own. Derek is immediately scrabbling at Stiles' shoulders and shifting them so he's now on top of Stiles, his arms either side of Stiles' head as he doesn't want to crush Stiles with his weight. Considering he's a huge werewolf made pretty much just of muscle.

They kiss, heated and passionate for a few minutes until Stiles can barely breathe, so he breaks away and bares his throat for Derek, who whines and leans down to attack it with his mouth, sucking at the skin and nibbling at the flesh to leave tender bruises in its wake. Stiles moans, a loud moan that he immediately regrets because his dad is literally in the next room, so he puts a hand over his mouth and bites into that instead. Derek grabs both of his hands and pulls them up over his head and holds them together with one of his own and he bites down, hard and Stiles moans again and bites into Derek's shoulder because he totally should be keeping quiet right now, and it's Derek's turn to moan because oh, look who has a biting kink? What a surprise. So Stiles bites down harder, knowing he's not causing the wolf real pain because he'll just heal as soon as he unclenches his jaw from the wolf's shoulder, and then the Alpha goes into some sort of sex mode, a single claw protracting from his nail on his right hand and slicing Stiles' shirt in two right down the middle, and then Stiles shimmies a little and throws it away (thankfully it was an old shirt otherwise he'd definitely be having words with Derek about this later) and then Derek's mouth is back on his.

But Stiles is only human so soon he has to break away to breathe again, and his breaths are ragged and he's panting because he's so turned on his dick is practically throbbing. Derek kisses his collar bone and then moves down to his bare chest, leaving wet sloppy kisses over Stiles' body as he moves slowly down to mouth at Stiles' crotch through his underwear. Stiles manages to compose himself and he looks down at Derek, and he swears he's almost going to faint because Derek taking off his boxer briefs might just be the hottest thing he's ever seen.

And then Stiles is naked and Derek isn't, so Stiles quickly moans about this and then Derek is naked too and he's back on top of Stiles, kissing and mouthing at his neck and Stiles moves his head to the side to give Derek more access. They're moving together, and Derek is rubbing his dick in the dip in Stiles' hip, and Stiles stifles a laugh because he's ticklish there but this is super serious, he and Derek getting it on are super serious.

But he doesn't want Derek to come like this. "Derek," he says, quietly and sweetly in Derek's ear and Derek stops, his moans stop and Stiles almost regrets it, "Derek please."

"Are you sure you want this?" Derek asks, and Stiles can tell that it's literally taking all of his restraint to ask this, but Stiles nods frantically and then Derek is moving down his body once more and then suddenly his mouth is around Stiles' dick.

"Holy shit," Stiles says quietly as he watches Derek's obscene mouth bob up and down, licking at the underside of his dick and then taking it deep the next time. Stiles grabs fistfuls of sheets and he arches his back up, pretty much thrusting now into Derek's mouth and Derek just lets him. He hums around Stiles and Stiles almost loses it, his eyelids flutter and the heat in his stomach pools and threatens to escape down Derek's throat but he composes himself and tells Derek to stop.

"Derek, I need..." he begins, but Derek's there already and he's back up to Stiles, their foreheads pressing together as Derek whispers a word and Stiles points with his head to his bedside drawer.

"How long has this been here?" Derek asks, taking the blue tube from the drawer and then flicking the lid so the bottle opens, and then he's slicking up two fingers and Stiles almost comes there and then.

"Since the day you kissed me in my hallway," Stiles states and Derek just smiles. He lifts Stiles' legs up, placing one on either side of his neck so they're resting on his shoulders, and he slowly teases Stiles' ass with one finger and then pushes inside, exhaling slowly as he does so. Stiles all but loses it. The fact that Derek Hale is here about to have sex with him is one thing, but Derek Hale fingering his ass? That is out of this world.

Derek pushes another finger in, and Stiles' dick visibly twitches and aches to be touched, but Derek slaps his hand away, mentions something about being the only one allowed to do that, so his dick remains untouched, pink, flushed and hard.

And then Derek is slicking up his own dick, stroking it a few times before just stopping completely. "What?" Stiles asks, because Derek is just looking at him, up and down as if to admire the view and Stiles blushes, he can practically feel his whole body flush red with embarrassment as he feels horribly exposed.

But Derek grins. An actual grin and then he's lining his dick up with Stiles' entrance and pushing in slowly. Stiles' breath hitches because at first there's nothing but pain, it's tight and he hasn't had sex in a while considering he and his on/off/was it really ever on boyfriend Seb are currently "off".

"Wait," Stiles says, and Derek stops, now fully in Stiles, the base of his dick pressed firmly against Stiles' ass, "condom?"

"werewolf remember, no diseases for us," Derek says, and then he pulls out and snaps his hips back so fast that Stiles chokes on his own words.

Werewolf stamina is something that Stiles will forever praise the heavens for. Derek's thrusting in and out, his hands tight on Stiles' legs as if he needs something to latch onto. Stiles arches his back and pushes his body to meet Derek's thrusts. Derek rolls his hips and Stiles cries out because his prostate is now being viciously attacked by Derek's dick and the pleasure is all but too much, but Derek is muffling Stiles' moans with his hand because hello parent in the next room. With each snap of Derek's hips against his own, Stiles is closer and closer to coming and he _needs _to touch himself now before he loses it completely, so he reaches down and silently thanks Derek with his eyes when Derek doesn't bat his hand away but releases Stiles' mouth and instead wraps his fingers around Stiles and strokes along with him. He leans over Stiles' body, his thrusts becoming more intense and Derek bites down on Stiles' shoulder again, never breaking the skin but hard enough to leave teeth marks and a bruise, and Stiles is stroking himself furiously now because the pleasure is too much, he needs to come else he's going to black out. Derek's hand tightens around Stiles' which in turn tightens around his dick and then he's coming, hard and fast over his and Derek's interlocked hands and his own belly, and the pleasure explodes in his body, in his veins as he arches his back and cries out against Derek's shoulder, biting down once more so his moans are muffled. Derek loses it, completely loses it and he shifts so Stiles' legs are spread wide and his hands go to Stiles waist and it takes a few more thrusts and rolls of his hips and he's coming too, coming inside Stiles who just lies there because he's absolutely exhausted, but when Derek moans against Stiles' neck he thinks he's all but ready for round two. They lie like that for a while, Derek still inside Stiles and when Derek moves to grab tissues from the table to clean themselves up, he feels empty but completely and utterly satisfied.

"You know," Stiles says after a while of lying next to each other, "we should definitely do that again."

Derek laughs. "There's going to be a next time?" He asks, genuinely concerned.

Shit.

Stiles doesn't say anything at all, he just turns to face Derek and then he's kissing Derek's shoulder and collarbone, the marks already disappeared from where Stiles bit down hard. Derek's now stroking Stiles' neck, checking out his own handiwork and he's smiling. "Is that some weird marking thing?" Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow as Derek smiles.

"Not all werewolf stuff you read is correct, Stiles, I just happen to have a kink for this kind of thing."

"So wolves don't mate for life?"

"Nope, myth."

"Do you have a knot?"

"Stiles."

"I'm guessing that's a no then," Stiles says.

Derek just nods and looks faintly amused. "Where are you getting this shit from, Twilight?"

"No! There isn't anything like this mentioned in Twilight, Derek seriously they're teen books."

"You've read Twilight? I'm ashamed."

"Oh come on Derek, I bet you're a secret romance novel enthusiast."

Derek just laughs. "Nope, guess again."

"Action?"

"On some levels."

"Oh my God you're a murder mystery novel lover aren't you? You are so predictable it almost hurts."

Derek doesn't exactly say no, he just kisses Stiles' lips to shut him up. It works.

They lie there for a while, tired but too awake to sleep, and they're so silent it's almost as if Stiles can hear Derek's heartbeat. Derek is absent-mindedly running a hand up and down the length of Stiles' side, and it's soothing. He tries to match his breaths against the rhythm, Derek's hand goes up, and Stiles breathes in. Derek's hand moves down, Stiles breathes out. But then Derek shifts his angle and he runs his hand over the scar, and his soothing stops and Stiles' breath hitches.

Derek moves, so he's now on top of Stiles once again, looking down into his eyes and Stiles isn't really sure what to do so he looks away. But Derek isn't having any of it, and he runs a hand up along Stiles' side once more.

And then Derek is kissing his scars. Just light, peppered kisses, up along the scar on Stiles' left side, the horizontal 2 inch old wound that was caused from when the arrow skimmed his side when he had been caught in the hunter crossfire whilst trying to rescue Kali. Derek then moves down to his belly, and leaves a kiss on the scar Stiles had gotten when trying to save Scott from an omega when he was nineteen and had come home from College that summer. (That was an eventful summer, Stiles prefers not to talk about it because he spent half the time in the hospital). He's shivering now because this, _this _is too intimate, between him and Derek. Stiles doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve the intimacy and the love and the affection, and he certainly doesn't deserve it from Derek. This should be the other way around, he should be showing Derek the affection because Derek _needs it _more than Stiles does, but he can't seem to move, partly because there's a hunking great werewolf on top of him, but there's a part of him that doesn't want to move, either. Derek then moves to Stiles' other side, the zigzagged scar Stiles likes to call his "Potter scar", and he didn't actually get that from any supernatural shit, he fell into barbed wire when he was seven, but he doesn't tell Derek this because Derek is kissing it, lightly and it's making Stiles' head flurry because this affection is going straight to his head and he feels kind of drunk.

Derek is now kissing back up his body and to his right shoulder, and then once again he freezes. And Stiles knows why he's frozen but he doesn't say anything. For once he waits for Derek to talk.

"What's this?" Derek asks, looking at the tattoo on Stiles' right shoulder, the triskele that's not quite as big as Derek's on his back, but it's certainly noticeable enough if Stiles ever took off his shirt. Derek obviously missed it when they were so caught up in the moment, and to be honest Stiles had forgotten about it completely. He just shrugs.

"I may have left, Derek," Stiles begins, moving to cup Derek's cheeks in his hands because he needs to show some affection towards this wolf else he's going to explode, "but the Pack never left me, _you _never left me."

And Derek just stares at him.

"You know," Stiles says, once Derek decides to lean down and nestle his face in Stiles' shoulder once more, "I'd leave kisses on your scars if you had any."

"Werewolf, remember?"

Stiles can feel him smile slightly against his skin and it sends shivers up and down his spine.

"All too well," Stiles responds, and smiles when Derek moves and looks down at Stiles, his face starting to contort with worry, Stiles leans up and kisses those frown lines away because he doesn't need Derek worried, he just needs _Derek_.

* * *

He wakes up the next morning, the sunlight streaming onto his face and it's so bright it hurts his eyes. Derek is still there, next to him and snoring softly, his arm wrapped tight around Stiles as if he never wants to let go.

Stiles has a call to make.

He moves, and Derek's arm slips from his waist but it wakes him up, and Derek's hair is messy and Stiles just wants to run his hands through it and pull it hard but _no you have a call to make Stiles_.

"What are you doing?" Derek asks sleepily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and propping himself up on one elbow as he turns to face Stiles.

"Calling Seb," Stiles responds simply as there is no other way to put it really.

"Seb?"

"My currently off boyfriend back in New York."

"_What?"_

But before Stiles can respond, Seb answers the phone with a "hey".

"Seb," Stiles says, relieved that he's actually still alive, but scared out of his wits that he's got to break this up once and for all.

"So it's over for good?" Seb asks, and Stiles gasps because wow Seb catches on quick.

"I...how'd you know?"

"I remember you telling him about me. You would whisper his name sometimes in your sleep, I caught on pretty quick. And when you said you were going back home...I anticipated this call. It was inevitable really."

He can practically feel Derek's eyes stare at his exposed back, and he sighs into the phone. "I'm sorry," Stiles says because it's all he can say really, and Seb just laughs.

"Don't worry about it, who am I to get in the way of fate? Keep in touch Stiles, if you ever decide to come crawling back you know where I am." He laughs again to let Stiles know that he's joking, and then the phone clicks and Seb is gone. Stiles just stares at the phone for a few seconds before there's a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, and he turns around to look at Derek.

"You whispered my name in your sleep?" Derek asks, a smile playing on his lips and Stiles just wants to punch him.

"Don't even start," he replies, sinking back down into his pillow and Derek follows, and they just talk and look at each other for a while, as if they are the only two people that matter right now.

* * *

When he's being thrown up against the wall of his house a few hours later, a part of him thinks Derek has come back for more. He lands on the porch in a heap and his head is throbbing slightly and he can feel the blood pumping hard and fast through his veins as he looks up to notice Aiden.

He's just fed up of seeing him now, he's always there.

"Look," Stiles begins, getting up and standing straight, "if you're going to kill me? Do it. Because I'm not some pet you can just play around with, I am a human being. I can't be doing with this."

Aiden laughs, a shrill laugh that shakes through Stiles and makes his spine tingle, and not in the good way. He's scared of Aiden; of course he's scared of Aiden. Because there is no doubt in his mind that he can ruin everything of Stiles' with a click of his fingers. The guy's a cold blooded murderer for Christ's sake, even by talking to him Stiles is playing with fire.

"Kill you?" Aiden asks, looking offended, "I'd never kill you! Far from it friend, far from it."

"One? I'm not your friend. And two? You need to stop being so cryptic or I swear to God..."

"You'll swear to God...what, Stiles? Have you not seen what I can do? I highly doubt you'll be swearing to God if this carries on."

Aiden looks positively evil. He's wearing all black, even down to his socks and his hair is dishevelled and messy as if he's been sat in some corner pulling at it for hours. Which Stiles wouldn't put past him considering the guy is a loon.

"If what carries on?" Stiles asks, hoping to God his dad doesn't come home soon because he doesn't want to wake up and find his dad's body mangled, "you need to give me some answers here if I'm going to cooperate."

"If you _rejecting me _is going to carry on. Good day, Stiles."

And then he leaves. Just like that he runs off into the woods behind Stiles' house as if it were a normal, daily thing to do to threaten a twenty four year old man then prance off into a body of trees.

This whole situation is frankly starting to sound a little bit "crazy ex girlfriend", and this is one situation he is definitely not telling Derek about because he doesn't want crazy ex girlfriend killing current crazy hot boyfriend. If he could call Derek that. Which he isn't entirely sure about but considering they had sex, he thinks the term boyfriend is good for now.

And then shit, he remembers something. He runs back inside the house (lunch with Erica can wait, this is too damn important) and down to the basement, searching through each of the old packing boxes until he comes across an old wooden box labelled "_Aconite Napel Bleu Nordique_". Nordic Blue Monkshood. He blows the dust off the borrowed (stolen) box of the Argents' and opens the lid and _yes _there are still bullets left inside. Six, to be exact.

He's never shot a gun in his life. Sure he's slashed a few knives around, thrown a few Molotov cocktails, but he's never needed to pull the trigger. But these six bullets may be all he needs to get rid of Aiden once and for all. He shoves the box inside of his bag and sets off for lunch with Erica. He needs her help.

* * *

"So...you want me to shoot a shotgun. At Aiden. Who is harassing you."

He's explained this already, twice to be exact and he isn't sure why this is so hard to fathom out.

"Yes," he says for the millionth time, nodding his head and rolling his eyes.

"But I've never shot a gun in my life."

"Neither have I!"

"So what makes you think I could do it?"

"I don't know Erica; you're a wolf aren't you? Just blame it on your wolf instinct to protect your Pack or something, make something up you're good at that."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Erica seriously."

"Why aren't you going to Derek about this?"

"Because I trust you that's why."

"And you don't trust Derek?"

"I don't trust him enough to make rational decisions when it comes to others around him, no."

Because Derek, although he hates to admit it, will always put others before himself. Stiles can see it, everyone else can see it, and it seems to be only him that can't see it. And he doesn't want Derek dead. It's either him or Aiden; it has been from the start.

"If I'm shooting this gun in the future, then you're paying for lunch."

"Deal."

Stiles doesn't want to kill him. Not really, he just wants to shoot the guy and make him promise to leave town. He'll have around 48 hours to live otherwise. Threats, bribery, that's what Stiles is good at. Not the actual killing. No thank you.

He has to get Allison in on this too, because she's the only one with access to actual guns, considering her dad sells them. She's sceptical at first but when she realises that a) it's Erica doing the shooting and b) they're not actually going to kill Aiden, she gives way a little and promises that when her dad is out of town next week, she'll grab a shotgun from the shelf and then they're good to go.

They just need to lure Aiden to somewhere now. Which is the most difficult part considering Aiden isn't the most tech savvy, and doesn't have a cell phone to hand.

So Stiles waits. It's all he can seem to do at the moment.

* * *

He's in bed with Derek and the Hale household that very same night, and Derek can immediately spot he's tense. "What's up?" He asks, running a finger down Stiles' spine and a spark ignites in Stiles that roughly translates to _sex now _please.

Sex is one of those great powerful tools in life. As soon as Stiles mentions the word "horny", it completely throws Derek off the scent, and then Derek is on top of him biting his neck and licking the base of Stiles' throat. The wet sensation mixed with Derek's hot breath is enough to send Stiles into a frenzy, he really needs this intimacy right now, he needs to forget about everything, about everyone but _Derek _here in this moment. He hitches his legs up around Derek's waist and then he's rolling them over, so he's on top of Derek now and Derek's eyes widen with shock but he relaxes and goes with it, and he bares his throat for Stiles so it's Stiles' turn to lick and suck and bite at Derek and make him shiver with pleasure. The foreplay is too much, and there needs to be _more_, so Stiles goes to get up off of Derek and lie on his back, but Derek stops him.

"It's your turn," he says, and Stiles isn't quite sure what Derek means at first so he just stares until Derek gets the idea to talk more. "Your turn. To fuck me."

Holy. Shit.

Stiles isn't sure whether he's going to faint or jump up and down with joy, and his dick twitches and the possible idea that in about ten minutes he's going to be buried to the hilt in Derek Hale, and the thought alone nearly makes him explode.

"Derek you can't say shit like this and not mean it," he begins, but Derek is shaking his head and coaxing Stiles down his body and Stiles obliges because he wants nothing more than to have Derek in his mouth right now, and it seems Derek is more on board with this than he is. He quickly strips them both of their underwear so they're both naked now, Stiles is stroking his dick, pumping a few times as Derek watches, his eyes wide with ecstasy and Stiles grins, a wicked grin before closing his mouth around Derek and licking the underside of his cock which makes Derek cry out an almost feral moan. They can be loud, as loud as they want tonight because Derek's house is in the middle of nowhere and Stiles wants to praise the heavens, but instead he focuses his attention on getting Derek off, and making him groan more and more. It's a big ego boost for Stiles, a huge one actually that he can make Derek feel and act this way, have him all but melt underneath Stiles' touch. Stiles bobs his head up and down a few more times before Derek's hand is in his hair and pulling him upwards. Stiles lifts his mouth off of Derek's dick with an obscene *pop* and Derek groans again, throwing lube in the general direction of Stiles and holy shit this is happening.

Stiles slicks up two of his fingers and then he's pushing one in and watching Derek's mouth drop open as a silent cry escapes from his lips and he closes his eyes with pleasure. Then Stiles is adding another finger it's tight, but he scissors his fingers to stretch Derek and Derek hisses but Stiles ignores this, and then he can't take anymore. He lines his dick up with Derek's entrance and he's pushing in, slow and steady at first and then he's at the hilt, letting Derek adjust. Derek's hands are on his hips now and they're pushing, pushing at Stiles and Stiles takes this as a _please move_, so he does, he pulls nearly all the way out and snaps his hips back in.

The pleasure is extraordinary, but Stiles is getting off more on the fact that Derek is underneath him, coming undone slowly with each snap of Stiles' hips as he thrusts in and out. Derek's mouth forms an "o" shape as he looks at Stiles and Stiles can't help but lean down to kiss, devour that mouth that's all his now. He half expects Derek to shout "mine", but he's strangely silent, and Stiles isn't having any of this. So he hoists one of Derek's legs up to his shoulder so he's thrusting from a different angle and _oh, _Derek's moaning now, each moan louder and louder and Stiles is closer and closer to coming but no, he's going to make Derek come first if it's the last thing he does. He reaches forward and grasps Derek's cock with one hand, pumping it in conjuncture with his thrusts and soon enough Derek is coming over his hand and over his belly, groaning so loud he's not surprised if the center of Beacon Hills can hear him, and then purely for that reason Stiles is coming too, stars entering his vision and this entire situation is just completely _ridiculous_, the fact he's having sex with Derek but _he's _the one fucking _Derek_? This is all unreal and Stiles almost wants to pinch himself to see if he's dreaming but he's so undone right now he can do nothing else but just collapse on top of Derek who laughs because now they're both hot and sticky but Stiles doesn't care, he just wants to kiss Derek and sleep beside him forever.

* * *

He waits.

He plays video games with Scott and he makes lunch for Isaac. He goes shopping with Erica and talks about old time with his dad. All in the space of a week and it's soon approaching the end of the summer break, there's about three weeks left to go and he has to go back soon, he's already outstayed his welcome so perhaps this Aiden plan isn't going to work after all.

But then he's at the library and it's a Wednesday, he's in the Mythology section looking up wolfsbane and its properties and then there's a tap on his shoulder and a chill down his spine. He turns around and Aiden is there, pretty much looking the same as before but if possible, _more exhausted._

"Aiden," Stiles says, not looking him in the eye because he's worried he's going to turn to stone, "how lovely to see you again." His voice is dripping with sarcasm and he knows he's skating on thin ice, but for this plan to actually work he needs to be cool and calm and collected. And Stiles can totally be all of those at one time. Yep.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Aiden states and he smiles, and Stiles isn't sure whether it's meant to be genuine or menacing on purpose, but either way it terrifies Stiles.

"Busy, you know. Pack pet stuff."

Aiden laughs and takes a step forward, tilting his head to the side slightly and looking at Stiles with confusion. "If you're going to be sassy with me Stiles, I think this town has enough inhabitants for me to just...choose one and kill, don't you?"

That stops Stiles. He can't have another death on his hands, he _can't_.

"Look, I'll do whatever you say. Just meet me at the motel east of here; you know that one you took me to? That one. Meet me there on Saturday and I will do whatever you want."

Aiden looks at him for a few seconds, nods his head and smiles. "Sure," he says, "as long as you cooperate. We're going to be a great team Stiles, just you wait."

A great team? For what? He doesn't want to find out and, hopefully he never will.

* * *

He hasn't seen Derek since yesterday morning, he didn't show up last night to do his whole creeper through the window routine, but he's missed a few other nights due to Pack patrol so Stiles thinks nothing of it. He gets home and decides to put some pasta on the hob, boiling the water first, and then moving over to the cupboard to fetch the pasta from the top shelf. He's home alone, his dad is doing his volunteering down the station and Melissa won't be home tonight as she's on night shift, so he plans to make a portion for himself and his dad and then a portion for Derek if he can be bothered to turn up tonight. Because he's just that nice.

He hears a shuffle from behind him, a squeak of shoes on linoleum and then there's an almighty crack, and before Stiles can realise it's someone's fist against his skull, his vision goes black and he lands on the floor in a heap, dropping the pasta and blacking out completely.

* * *

He comes to in a dark room, pitch black almost if it wasn't for the moon's light through the small barred window at the top of the cell. His head hurts and he reaches a hand up to touch the wound on the back of his head and he can feel yep, those are scratch marks. Wolf cheated, used his claws as well as his fist. He's cold and alone in this cell but the first thing he thinks of is that he hopes his dad got home in time to turn the stove off because the water was still boiling.

Then his heart breaks in two because he would have seen the pasta on the floor everywhere and the blood from Stiles' still gaping wounds, the blood pooling at the back of his neck and Stiles notices a gash just above his left eyebrow as there's blood dripping into his eye and it's disgusting.

He looks around the cell. Pretty much all damp brick except for the wooden door modernised with steel locks. He guesses it's around nine, maybe ten o'clock at night which means he's been out cold for at least four to five hours. Wolf drugged him as well as hit him. Wolf cheated twice.

He's not angry. Well, of course he's angry but he's more worried than anything. Worried for the Pack and their whereabouts. Worried for Derek and where he is, worried for his dad.

There's shuffling outside and one by one the steel locks on the door begin to turn and unlock and Aiden is stood in the doorway. The sight is almost angelic; one side of his face is illuminated and it makes him look absolutely terrifying. Stiles is scared. He's scared out of his mind because what does Aiden want him to do? He's going to have to do it. He's going to have to do whatever Aiden tells him to do because he's out of options. He doesn't have the bullets on him; he can't outrun a wolf for Christ's sake, so there's only one option left: comply.

"Like I was going to fall for your plan, Stiles. Up," Aiden says, his voice harsh and hoarse and Stiles obeys. Aiden grabs one of his arms and yanks, nearly pulling the arm out of the socket and Stiles yells out once but then quietens because he doesn't want to irk Aiden.

He's led out into a pitch black corridor and he's now purely relying on Aiden's hand on his arm to guide him to wherever he's taking him. More blood drips down his face and he feels dirty and gross, but this is the least of his worries right now. He just wants to get out of here.

He's led into a wide, open space, like the main area of an old abandoned warehouse. It's all pitch black apart from one tiny light at the other end of the room, and before Stiles even gets over there he knows what this is. He feels utterly sick to his stomach and he wants to puke. He's lightheaded and angry and he wants to cry and shout at Aiden, but he stays calm.

Because he doesn't want Derek to die.

Derek looks up and whines when he sees Stiles walk across the room. His arms are tied with what looks like iron chains up over his head onto a hook in the wall behind. His head is covered in blood, his hair is drenched in the stuff but Stiles knows that there are no wounds. It's a wolf thing, he's jealous of the wolf thing. Because the cuts on his head are really starting to hurt now and he's worried that considering Aiden has decided to take them to a place that isn't the most hygienic, they're going to get infected.

"If I let go, will you stay put?" Aiden asks Stiles almost childlike, and Stiles obeys because what else can he do? So Aiden lets go and Stiles stays rooted the spot, a hand going up to inspect the cut on his head and he winces and Derek growls.

Aiden laughs, that shrill laugh Stiles hates. "Werewolf boyfriend getting protective over human boyfriend? Cute, it really is."

"Just _kill_ me," Derek states and Stiles goes to shout but Derek gives him _the look_. "He's not got anything to do with this, you want me just let him go."

"Oh, on the contrary, it's the other way around!"

What.

"What?" Derek and Stiles both say in unison. Aiden grins.

"Derek you're merely here as a part of my plan for Stiles! In fact, you're a key part of it!"

He takes out a gun, a .22 pistol and thrusts it at Stiles.

"And what am I meant to do with this?" Stiles asks, looking at the gun in his hands like someone's killed a cat and put it there, which Aiden has kind of already done.

"I want you to kill Derek."

Stiles stares at Aiden. "Why?"

Derek coughs. He's already got it. For once Stiles is the slow one.

"Stiles..." he begins, his face contorting because he's so uncomfortable, "he wants you to become an Alpha. _His_ Alpha. He wants you to kill me so you take my Alpha status."

It takes a moment for Stiles to take this in because it's all so bizarre. "Can I ask why?" He finally asks, and Aiden takes a few seconds to answer.

"Because you're _special_. You have the qualities of an Alpha, Stiles, but you're human. You're loyal and passionate and a martyr for the cause but you're also strong and willing and able cunning. You're a perfect candidate."

"But I'm not a wolf yet!" He cries out, looking back and forth between the gun and Derek because there is no way in Hell he is shooting Derek, no way.

"He plans to turn you after you've killed me, if he turns you now and you die from the bite...there's no point."

"I want to see the pain in your eyes as you kill him Stiles, I want you to feel the same guilt I do."

"Because you let your brother die instead of you? Dick move Aiden."

He can't help it. He's Stiles Stilinski, he and sass come as a pair. That earns him a slap so hard it knocks him back a few steps and Derek growls again which is utterly pointless because he can't do anything.

"And what if I say no?" He says, confident because what's the worst that Aiden could do?

He takes out his phone (oh so he is clever enough to work out technology), taps in a few keys and then there's a live video feed being displayed on his phone.

Of his house.

He can see his dad in the window making dinner in the kitchen, and Stiles almost thanks Aiden for cleaning up the mess so his dad wouldn't worry as much.

But then he's sickened again because Aiden has been keeping tabs on him and his dad all along.

"See that? That's your house. And see that shadow there? That's Lucas. A rogue I speak to sometimes from Georgia. Owed me a favour. One click of the fingers Stiles and your dad is dead. So I'm giving you an ultimatum."

Stiles swallows.

"Your dad or your Alpha."

He can't believe this is happening to him. Nope, this is all a dream, all he has to do is pinch himself and he'll be okay, he'll wake up next to Derek and Derek will be snoring softly and Stiles will smile and...

"Stiles. Choose."

"I can't, I..."

Derek speaks and Stiles wants to cry. "Stiles it's okay. Honestly. Just...one through the heart remember that okay, because those bullets are laced with wolfsbane and if they hit anywhere else..." he's going to be in a lot of pain. He's seen it before.

Stiles stares at him in utter horror. Derek's just practically told Stiles how to murder him for Christ's sake.

He won't do it. He can't do it.

But his dad, he can't let his dad die...but he can't let Derek die either.

If he shoots himself...that's not going to solve anything is it? Because Aiden will kill both Derek and his dad as punishment.

There's no way out. He has to choose.

"Stiles it's fine," he hears Derek say, over and over again and it's aching his brain and his heart and just about everything else in his body.

He hears Aiden huff impatiently and tap his foot against the floor which reverberates onto the walls of the warehouse and echoes back into his mind, the _thump thump thump _beating into his brain like a clock ticking down the seconds he has to choose.

He lifts up the gun and holds it in both hands. It feels a hundred times more heavy than it actually is, it feels _wrong_. He flicks off the safety, tears are falling down his cheeks now and they're interlacing with his own blood and it feels disgusting but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything now. He's numb.

He's broken.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly and Derek nods, he fucking nods as if everything is going to be okay and Derek closes his eyes at the same time Stiles closes his. His finger plays around with the trigger a little, touching it lightly and then pulling his finger away as if it's been burned. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to shoot Derek, he doesn't want to become Aiden's Alpha, _he doesn't want_.

He's full on crying now, deep choked sobs that leave him breathless and cold and empty. The distant urges from Aiden are in the back of his mind now; everything has been moved to the back of his mind. It's just him and Derek and the gun now. He squeezes his eyes shut. His finger moves towards the trigger.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "Derek I'm sorry."

The sound of the gun is so loud that it practically bursts Stiles' eardrum. He takes a few steps backward because the sound hits him hard and he drops the gun on the floor and kicks it away from him. His eyes are still closed and he can smell the wolfsbane powder in the air and he can hear the _thump _of the body hit the floor.

He's done it. He's killed Derek.

He wants to die.

Without even opening his eyes he drops to the floor and his head is in his hands and he's sobbing, sobbing so much that his lungs hurt and he cries out and his throat is sore.

He can hear his name being called, somewhere in the distance and he just wants Aiden to leave him in peace for a few seconds to mourn the fact he just fucking shot his boyfriend.

"Stiles," the voice calls, "Stiles it's okay."

This is all too real, Derek's voice is still there playing in his mind, replaying over and over and it's agonizing. Someone walks past him, there's a rustle of chains and then a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off because he doesn't want Aiden near him right now, he doesn't even want to _look _at him, not now, not ever, not as long as he lives.

"Stiles, will you just look at me? Stiles it's okay, I'm not dead look. Stiles you need to look."

There are hands gently pulling his own away from his face and Stiles slowly opens his eyes.

To see Derek in front of him.

But that's impossible because he just shot Derek. Dead. So how is he alive?

Then he looks past Derek, and there's Kali, holding a gun in her hand and her face is unmoving and Stiles can't tell what emotion she's showing because she's so calm and organized.

"You owe me _nothing _now," she says firmly. She gives Stiles one last look and walks away, past Derek and Stiles to the other end of the warehouse and she leaves.

"Stiles we need to get you to a hospital now come on."

But Stiles can't move. He can't. He looks to the left of him and Aiden is lying in a pool of his own blood, a wolfsbane bullet straight to the heart, killed him cold.

He's dead.

And Derek is alive.

He bursts into tears.

So Derek just picks him up. Like a groom would do to his newlywed bride and even though Derek has been through _more _shit in his life than Stiles has, he's the strong one now. Stiles' body won't seem to do anything so he just sobs into Derek's chest. He's lightheaded from the loss of blood and relief that _he didn't shoot Derek_, and then there's a cool breeze hitting his face and he's outside and alive and human and with Derek and they're okay.

Aiden's gone. Everything is going to be okay.

* * *

It's a difficult thing to explain to his dad. "I got kidnapped by a crazy werewolf and forced to shoot my boyfriend who I didn't actually shoot in the end because a bad wolf turned good wolf followed us and saved the day" but he tries the best he can, and even though he knows his dad doesn't really get it, he's just glad that he lives to see him another day. His dad suggests therapy for the mental trauma but Stiles wilfully declines, says he's got his own therapist in the name of Erica Reyes who only charges lunch instead of hundreds of dollars an hour.

He wasn't in the hospital long. A few stitches to the cuts on his head and then he's out of there like a shot. Because he just wanted to hold Derek. Because he didn't kill Derek, Derek was alive and there and holding Stiles and everything was fine.

He doesn't even think of booking his flight back home. Life is too short; he can't even begin to _think _about leaving his friends, his family, his Pack again.

He calls Allison.

"Hey Allison?" He asks tentatively, and Allison laughs because she knows what's coming.

"I already forwarded your CV to the school two weeks ago Stiles, the job is yours if you want it."

* * *

His dad arrives a week after with a brand new (not really, it's kind of old but newer than his old Jeep and brand new to him) Jeep, a black one this time, the same make and everything. "Car thief stole it a few weeks ago, it was never claimed so they were going to send it to the impound. I put it aside just in case you decided to stay."

* * *

Derek provides him with a set of keys the day after. "Had these made up," he says, lifting a finger and gently stroking Stiles' cheek, "the week after you came back, just in case you ever needed them."

* * *

He's staying. He's staying in Beacon Hills and it seems as if everyone but him had known his decision from the outset. He's home.

* * *

He's sat with Derek one night at his house, a week before the new term at Beacon Hills High is about to start. They're watching some comedy show on the television that Stiles doesn't really get but Derek finds it hilarious so he just watches it for his sake. Stiles turns his head to face Derek and he smiles, and Derek smiles back.

"I'm ridiculously in love with you, you know that right?" Stiles says, his head coming to lean on the back of the couch and he just stares at Derek, gauging a reaction. At first he's still but then Derek grins, that wide toothy grin that he only does for Stiles and no one else, and he nods. "I know," he says, and he pulls Stiles in for a kiss. Stiles knows full well that Derek loves him back. He knew the moment Derek decided to give up his own life for Stiles when Aiden had given him an ultimatum. He knows now, because Derek's grinning against his lips and laughing softly as this has always been his life. He's not expecting Derek to say it back, not ever really. Because he knows that Derek has trouble expressing his emotions. Derek's the type of person to _show _his affection rather than voice it.

And that's okay with Stiles.

Everything is okay.

* * *

**This was a lot longer than I had intended. I'd been fighting with myself because I've got so many different fics to write that are just stored on my laptop, but I had to write this. I just had to. Future!fics have always been a favourite of mine, so it was nice to write one. That just happened to be 26,500 words long. **

**My tumblr is _sourwolves _if any of you are interested in following me!**


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